Star Trek Maximillian: Strength In Darkness
by Chris C Stephenson
Summary: Captain Critch Starblade's first mission finds the Maximillian undercover to uncover the secrets of a cryogenically frozen Reman vessel, with a course set for the Federation...
1. Chapter 1

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please visit maxwriters. pbwiki. com

The following story takes place after "Needs of the Many"

Star Trek: Maximillian

Strength In Darkness

_The following story takes place in the year 2381, four years after the events in BEYOND THE FINAL FRONTIER. Captain Kelvok of the _Maximillian_, along with his crew, has uncovered a strange new form of life, a plant creature that nearly takes over his ship. The creatures make their way to an isolated planet where they begin to multiply quickly. Kelvok's first officer, Tamak, acting unlike himself, damages the _Maximillian_, inadvertently killing one officer before control is returned to the Captain. It is quickly decided that the only way to eradicate this creatures completely is to destroy the planet before they can find a way off world._

_Following these events, Captain Kelvok steps down from the Captaincy rather than face a long and damaging series of questions. He has strongly recommended that LCDR Critch Starblade take control of the ship. Admiral Blobbin is optimistic, but Admiral T'Kill has his reservations, remembering only too well what happened four short years ago…_

**PROLOGUE**

As it was night on the United Star Ship _Maximillian_, at least what could be considered to be night on a ship surrounded by endless darkness, silence overpowered everything. The strange quiet extended through the empty halls, through the darkened sickbay, to the Engineering bay where only a sparse night shift worked. It had been decided long before that even on a ship of this size, keeping the traditions of the home worlds of the Federation was very important, hence, a lightened duty shift, allowing most members of the crew to have a work shift, an off shift, and most importantly, a sleep shift.

Almost all the members of the Maximillian, from the Horta Xenobiologist Nirathi to Zen, the Vulpes Sapien chief of morale required a long period of rest of some sort. The main exceptions were the two Soong-based androids, though they slept at times in search of dreams, locked away in their strangely developed neural nets.

One other android of another type had recently drifted off into a period of recharge and relaxation, a period that had been too long in coming. For Critch Starblade, the past few months had been more tiring than almost any time he could remember in his history. After the incidents with Captain Kelvok and the now dead planet Cirrus Theta, most of the bridge crew of the _Maximillian_ had been debriefed extensively. At times, there were rumors that none of them would be left in the fleet to serve on the Max. The death of a once-thriving planet, caused by a desperate action in order to save the rest of the galaxy from an unstoppable race of strange plant-creatures, demanded answers, especially from the few survivors, many of which had pledged their lives to destroying their planet's murderers.

It was an extreme act of self-sacrifice that led Captain Kelvok to choose not to maintain his Captaincy. While he maintained his rank, he accepted the blame for what had happened and accepted a new role, that of Wing Commander on board the very ship he once captained. In his place, Lieutenant Commander Starblade was promoted up the line; however that was not accomplished without putting Critch through a barrage of questions and challenges, some of which were ongoing. Admiral T'Kill, who held the _Maximillian_ as his flagship, was keeping a very close eye on the android. Despite the loyal service since the events with the Marconian invasion, save for a brief stint as a Communications officer on the now lost _Asgard_ (_Destroyed during the Dominion War at the Battle of Rashanar. Source: "A Time to Be Born")_, T'Kill still seemed to not fully trust the decisions of the unique android, and only grudgingly accepted that he could become Captain, if only because of the urgings of Kelvok, and fellow Admiral Blobbin.

However, it didn't mean he had to make it easy on Starblade…

As the night moved slowly past, Critch fell deeper and deeper into his recharge cycle. He really only needed to rest for a few hours every couple of weeks, however, he preferred to take his rest period seriously, with several hours every night. He had not yet thought that the raising of his rank might not afford him such opportunities. There was a sudden loud beeping throughout his quarters, serving as an alarm clock for the exhausted android. Sighing, he lifted an arm, and tapped a small panel above his head. Never one for protocol, he simply rasped out a sleepy "What?"

"Critch, you're needed on the bridge, we've received a distress signal and…"

Commander Jaydin was cut off. Critch sighed as he closed his eyes and began to drift back off. "So tell the Captain, I'm off shift." He spoke, ending the discussion, quietly switching off the communicator. What was she thinking? He had no authority in these matters, just being a glorified pilot and all. It was like she thought he was…

He jolted upwards in bed, remembering everything suddenly, and groaned to himself.

"Oh yeah…I'm the Captain."


	2. Chapter 2

For more information and to purchase published works,

please visit maxwriters. pbwiki. com

The following story takes place after "Needs of the Many"

Star Trek: Maximillian

Strength In Darkness

**Chapter I**

Captain Critch Starblade exited the turbolift slowly, unaccustomed to the response that he received with his new position. It seemed that the crew worked a little faster when he was around, and Critch couldn't figure out if it was because they were eager to impress him, or just wanted to show him what they could do. Regardless, it kept his ship running smoothly, and that was just the way he wanted it.

He had to let that sink in. His ship the _Maximillian_ was under his control. It was something he had rarely even allowed himself to dream about, yet here it was. And all the responsibility that goes with it. Including, he sighed to himself as he strode forward onto the bridge, getting awoken from his desperately needed recharge time.

"_Captain,"_ it was just a simple greeting, but it still came as a bit of a jolt to Critch as he realized that his Xenobiologist had noticed him. Nirathi was a Horta, one of the first in the Federation to serve on a starship, but you certainly couldn't notice that by his actions. Despite the lack of arms, legs, or even standard communication tools, Nirathi was very successful at his position. A series of prototype telepathic enhancers had been added to the standard 'babelfish' universal translators, and so far they had worked fairly well. Nirathi was able to communicate with the crew without speaking, but could understand anything they could say without problems. Other devices had been arranged and developed so that he could do his work, and he had achieved success very quickly.

Critch nodded at him. "Howdy." And then stopped at the short ramp to the main section of the bridge, where his chair sat, and his command staff busily worked the ship. He stopped, taking it all in, and gazed around at his staff. He had handpicked his command crew from the finest of the _Maximillian_, as well as a few other ships throughout the fleet. He firmly believed that this was the finest crew on any ship, and looked forward to proving it. If he could stay awake, that is. He stifled a yawn as he appraised his people, many of them not realizing that he had arrived.

Jaydin Aleya, his Bajoran First Officer, who also served as Chief of Medical, a dual role that taxed her time, was one of his closest friends on the Max. She had seen him at his worst, and at his best. She, also, was his first choice for the position, and as far as he was concerned, the only choice. He knew that she would have to leave someday, as she also happened to be a very important figure on her home planet. _(Home Again) _ For now, though, he was happy having her by his side.

Skrit, his second officer, and a unique energy being that had intertwined itself with the ship's former doctor Nathan Alexander several years before, now headed up the Security department, like most of the officers pulling double duty on the ship, and had proved himself capable on uncountable occasions.

His Science Officer, T'Purr Meowran, rounded out his command crew, serving as his third. Her Caitian history gave her a distinctive feline appearance that she shared with only her daughter on this ship, but she never let that stand in her way, and Critch didn't let it stand in his way of giving her the permanent job once he moved into the center seat.

One of the more talked about members of the crew was Overload, the last known intelligent Soong android. Together with her companion Databit, a perfect replica of the _Enterprise's_ Data, only in an action-figure sized form, they had quickly replaced Critch in the Operations department. Despite Critch's initial misgivings, _(A Great Adventure) _things had worked out well with the pair, developing into a unique friendship. Surprisingly, Critch had also developed a rapport with Databit, who despite his incredible and insatiable curiosity was also a deep thinker, and they had had many conversations about their differing outlooks on life.

His Chief Engineer was similarly unique, the Squirrel-like being who had taken on the name Squirrelly. His true origins were mysterious, despite his recent explanation of his self over the airwaves of the Federation. _(Forms of Life) _His need for secrecy had led him to come up with a false history, and he was happy to just leave it at that. Critch understood his needs, but knew the time would come at some point that the whole story would have to be told.

Rounding out his bridge staff was his chief of Shuttle Operations and wing commander, Kelvok himself. He had dropped back into the familiar position after his Captaincy, and Critch was glad to have him on board. Not just for the experience that he brought with him, but also that Kelvok seemed to serve as a buffer between Critch and Admiral Turock T'Kill, who since the events had spent more time on the ship than he had since before the android had joined the _Maximillian_, something that Critch knew was because of his supposed untrustworthiness.

Critch himself had been through trying times, not just with the happenings with the plant-creatures, which were even now rumored to be popping up on unpopulated worlds outside of Federation space, despite their apparent destruction that had inadvertently lead to Critch becoming captain in the first place. _(A Great Adventure, Needs of the Many)_ Before that, when his Marconian doppelganger had invaded this universe under the guise of bringing the now-deceased Admiral Robert Lyon to some sort of justice (_Beyond the Final Frontier)_, Critch had discovered his true heritage, of a great and terrible conqueror in his home universe, the universe of the Marconians, where all life but their own had been wiped out or enslaved. His memories lost and then regained, Critch denied with every fiber of his being his former life, defeating his twin, but had told no one of what he had found out, only a lie that he had created; that he had discovered that he was to be a spy, to enter the Federation's good graces and pave the way for the eventual takeover of the worlds of the galaxy. But all that he had accomplished, trying endlessly to prove that he was more than he was meant to be, seemed to mean nothing in certain people's eyes.

_Better get on with it. _Critch thought to himself, as he said aloud, "What's going on?" His voice startled most of his bridge crew, and alerted them to his presence. Overload craned her head around even as she continued punching in commands on her console, and gave her standard greeting to him of "Droid!"

Jaydin turned to him, a padd in her hand. "We intercepted a distress signal, Captain." She smiled as she added his newfound rank. It was something she enjoyed teasing him about. "The signal cut off after just a moment, but we do have the coordinates."

T'Purr faced the main deck. "It seems to be a Gorn cruiser, at least from the codes they were transmitting on, and the slurred speech." She shook her head as Critch sat in his chair, adjusting it to his liking.

"Not like the Gorn to send out distress signals…or any signals at all for that matter."

"Agreed. There has been little seen of them since the destruction of their home world." Databit spoke from his perch on the Operations console. His voice carried throughout the bridge, thanks to a special enhancement that had been placed specially for his use.

"Thanks for reminding me about that… What's the problem? Why aren't we there yet?" Critch was eager to bring this to a close, and resume his recharge.

"The problem is that it's coming from the other side of the Romulan Neutral Zone." Skrit added.

Critch frowned. "I thought the Romulans had more important things to worry about right now."

Skrit nodded. "You'd think so, but the zone has become a battleground for insurgents, criminals, you know, bad people." Skrit grinned, but Critch just closed his eyes, not wishing to get drawn into a joking match.

Kelvok cleared his throat, drawing attention. "We should tread lightly, Captain. Our earlier run-in with the Romulans may not have been an isolated incident." _(Home Again.)_

"And I'd agree. Last thing we need on my first cruise is an interstellar disaster."

"But we can't just leave those people there!" Overload cried, adamantly. After a moment, Databit stood up straighter. "I agree."

"We don't even know if there is anyone there!" Critch sat back in his chair, quickly annoyed with the situation. He sighed heavily. "But…we have to make sure." He muttered something about regulations that was too quiet for anyone to hear. He nodded towards Jaydin's seat, and she took the hint and sat down as he gave the order. "Lieutenant Overload, Warp 8 to the last known location of the signal." He knew he was going to regret this. Shaking his head, he gave a command.

"Lets go."

_Captain's Log, Captain Starblade reporting._

_After a somewhat rude awakening, the command staff is now fully awake and on duty, and ready to investigate this unexpected signal._

_This is my first mission as Captain of the Maximillian, and one thing is clear._

_I really have to get my comm. System deactivated._

Fifteen painstaking minutes had passed since the signal had been received, and the _Maximillian_ had just arrived at the predetermined coordinates. Quickly dripping out of warp, the ship moved to its slowest speed. Overload announced their arrival in her usual cheerful manner, as Critch studied the readouts on the arm of his command chair. "T'Purr…"

"On it." The Science Officer moved quickly to her screens, scanning them with quick eyes. "That's strange…There's nothing here! Only some subspace static!"

"Static, Commander?" Kelvok didn't like where this was heading.

T'Purr nodded. "Yes, from four distinct areas, all around us."

Critch nodded. "I don't like this. Filter out the static, and put it onscreen."

The screen lightened for a moment, and then four distinct green blobs, fading into view, quickly filled the blackness of this area of space. It only took Critch a moment to realize what they were becoming, as he noticed the static fall away from the sensors. He quickly stood, thinking up orders as fast as his reflexes could go. But the first words out of his mouth moved no one to do anything.

"Ah. Crap."

The shapes came into focus, and all viewers could see what they truly were. Skrit shouted at the screen. "Captain! Four Romulan Warbirds decloaking!"

The four green ships instantly began to attack, as though they were waiting for this instant for a very long time. Their phasers seared into the shields of the _Maximillian_, making them flare wildly. The attack was unrelenting, as the Warbirds put on an impressive display of tactics, diving and dodging around the almost stationary ship.

It wasn't stationary for long. The ship shook from the pounding it was taking, as Critch called out to the room. "Red alert! Hold on to something!" As he said this he fell out of his chair due to a sudden backwards lurch. As he sprawled on the floor, Jaydin barked orders. "Evasive maneuver Epsilon Kirk Delta!"

The Maximillian finally began to answer the attack, swerving out of the way of the attack, ducking underneath one of the Romulan ships. Critch climbed back into his seat, a bit embarrassed that one of the first acts he had taken was to disengage the seatbelt mechanisms. "Hail them!"

Ensign McDaniel answered back in a slightly Scottish tone. "All channels jammed, Captain." His tone was calm.

Databit stood up on uncertain legs. "Captain, I believe we have been led into a trap!"

A sharp lance of phaser fire struck the Maximillian on the right most side, searing through a weak portion of the shields. The resulting 'KABOOM" resounded throughout the ship, and the bridge. Despite the increasing shaking, Critch stood. "Fine…if they wanna play…Skrit, aim for the closest Warbird. Target engines." As he answered in the affirmative, Critch looked sternly upon the viewscreen.

"Fire."

Romulan Warbirds are fast, deadly ships. But against the full power of the Federation flagship, a one-on-one battle would not take long. Torpedoes and phasers alike poured out of the awoken _Sovereign_ vessel, all striking the central column of their target. Within an instant, the red and blue fire was replaced with yellow flame, as the Warbird disintegrated into debris.

Databit let out a small "Yes!" Critch pumped his fist and exclaimed, "Got 'em!" And Overload glanced at a console. "Yeah, but they got us! Shields down on deck 8! They're coming over!" Indeed, small red dots were already appearing on the internal ships sensors.

Jaydin quickly issued orders. "Skrit, get your team down there!" As she said this, the energy being had already entered the turbolift.

"Halfway there, Commander." The ship shook again as the turbolift doors closed, and Critch stood back up.

"Now, Mr. Overload, give me a collision course."

She looked back, a look of bewilderment covering her face. "Collision course?"

"You heard me."

"Um…ok." She reluctantly keyed in the commands, and the _Maximillian _moved quickly towards a Warbird, firing quickly. The Romulan ship, turning gracefully, moved into a course with the same destination: Embedded in the hull of their enemy.

Oblivious to all of this, Skrit ducked behind a wall on deck eight. The rapid response team had done their part, taking out all but two invaders in the weakened section, but the battle was still ongoing. As Korjac fell to the floor, Skrit didn't have time to see if he was merely stunned or actually killed. As he pressed himself into the wall as much as he could, he tapped his communicator. "Bridge, send reinforcements down here! We need all the help we can get!"

No one on the bridge acknowledged the message; they were having issues of their own. The two ships were barreling down upon one another; both firing everything they could, but nothing could stop their progress. Jaydin glanced at the Captain, beginning to get a bit nervous, though she trusted him. Somewhat. "Um, Critch…?"

"Wait for it…"

Overload's eyes grew wide. "Droid! We have to move!"

"Wait for it…"

Nilrathi shifted uncomfortably. "Captain, I don't think…"

Critch yelled suddenly, "NOW!" Databit uttered an explicative, and the rest of the ship jumped as Overload pounded her console. The _Maximillian_ suddenly increased its angle by 30 degrees, moving up, up, and over the Warbird it had been playing chicken with. The crew of the Warbird had no time to react, especially when they realized that there was another target right in front of them.

Another Warbird that had been chasing the _Maximillian_, lost in the heat of battle.

Critch smirked as the two ships rammed into each other, and disappeared in an enormous explosion, even as he held on to his chair to guard against the ensuing shockwave. "The one heading toward us forgot about the one behind us. The one behind us forgot about the one in front of us. It's really simple. We go up, they go down**.**"

_As the invisible shockwave, along with pieces of the two ships, struck the Maximillian, Skrit steadied himself against the wall. "Critch! Where's that team?"_

Critch sat down comfortably, happier with the odds, even as Overload reported more bad news. "We've lost comm. to deck 8!"

T'Purr called over her shoulder, the security functions temporarily routed to her console. "Shields failing on decks 3, 4…most of them!"

"Great, better get to sickbay." Critch nodded towards his first officer as Jaydin began to head to the turbolift.

"On my way."

Green disruptor fire rushed by, close enough to Skrit's head that he could feel the heat. He shook it off. "Fine. We'll do this the hard way." In a bright flash of light, his humanoid form dissipated into a red electric streak, resembling an "S". Relishing in his true form, total electric energy, Skrit zapped up to the ceiling, and moved along it quickly. Thinking the electric streak was part of a system failing, the two Romulan agents ignored him, even as he reappeared as a human behind them. Before they even knew he was there, he had placed one hand, flowing with blue electricity, _inside_ one of the Romulans, quickly electrocuting him. The disruptor flew through the air, and Skrit calmly grabbed it, and spied the other agent turning and aiming at him. Skrit fired first, and the Romulan dropped. The invasion was stopped, though not bloodlessly, and Skrit tapped his Com Badge, unsure if he could be heard or not. "Skrit to bridge. Deck eight is secure."

On the bridge, Kelvok raised an eyebrow as he moved to the viewscreen, to assess the situation. Behind him, Critch pinched the skin between his eyes. "Report!"

Kelvok turned. "All communications are down. Ninety-four percent of our shields have gone down as well, and our weapon systems are offline." The ship shook with incoming fire from the remaining Warbird, still a threat. Without missing a beat, Kelvok continued. "Ninety-five percent shields down."

Critch shook his head.

"Fantastic. What's the good news?"

"I did not say I had any, Captain. However, their shields are weak in one area…their engineering bays."

_Captain's Log: Supplemental. We're screwed._

_Jaydin is undoubtedly swamped in Sickbay, Skrit's whereabouts are unknown, though that's typical, and every member of my crew that are still conscious are doing their jobs. We're managing to dodge the Warbird for now, but that won't last for much longer. Enough time for a last log entry while I try to think this through. Things look bleak. No shields, no weapons, and we couldn't surrender if we wanted to. But there's always hope. There doesn't look like there's any way to win. But as a famous Captain said a long time ago…I don't like to lose._

Another barrage of fire had found the _Maximillian_, pock marking and searing the hull of the ship. Many of the letters had peeled off or been burned off, but the ship was still alive, if only barely.

"When you're done whispering into your book, we're a little busy here!" Overload yelled at Critch.

He snapped to attention. "You think your way, I'll think mine. Ok…so what else can we throw at them?"

T'Purr called from the back. "Could throw the 'bit."

As Overload responded with an indignant "Hey!" Critch shook his head. "Unfortunately, that's not an option. Reset that collision course. This time we mean it."

Kelvok shook his head. "We have lost that option as well. Main propulsion is offline."

"Great." Critch sank into his chair.

T'Purr's worried expression grew across her face, and she attempted to lighten the fearful mood. "Funny, I always thought it'd be the Borg that'd get us."

There was a beat, and then Critch's eyes snapped open. "The Borg?" He instantly sprang from his seat and leaped up to the upper level. "Squirrelly, you're with me. T'Purr, you have the bridge." In an instant, he had disappeared into the turbolift, leaving the remaining crew quite bewildered.

The phaser fire continued to burn into the hull, exposing many decks to space. A targeted torpedo destroyed the better part of Stellar Cartography. And life support had completely failed on most of the decks. None of this daunted Critch as he entered the transporter bay. He and Squirrelly crossed to the controls.

"You sure about this?" Squirrelly curled his tail up anxiously.

"…Not really."

"This could blow up in our faces. Literally."

"Relax, I used to be a transporter chief."

"Operative words. Used to be."

"Just follow my lead."

Kelvok turned from his position in the rear of the room where he was monitoring the power outputs of the Romulan Warbird. "Commander, I believe they are targeting our bridge."

T'Purr shook noticeably. "Critch…Hurry…"

"Now or never, Mr. Squirrelly. Hit it."

"Don't say I didn't tell you so…" As they hit the controls together, there was a bright flash, as a point-to-point transportation occurred…

In the engineering bay of the Romulan Warbird, the fact that the shields were down did not scare them. The mood was jovial; they were about to score a great victory. One of the two workers glanced around the room, satisfied that although they had taken damage, none of it was serious.

As he prepared to move on to other duties, a sharp whine caught his attention. He turned to see the last of a bright blue display, and the appearance of a rounded black object, with a countdown clock on it, in Federation standard. The clock had hit 2, and then 1, and then…

The Romulan ship exploded slowly from its warp core outward, ripped apart at the seams with the release of extraordinary power. There was a slight cheer from the bridge, which ebbed as the shockwave grew nearer, and then it struck with the force of a hundred torpedo blasts, shaking the ship to the core. There was a great grinding sound, and then…

Nothing. Darkness. Somewhere in the black Critch stood alone, glancing around him, startled slightly by the sudden loss of the ship around him. He took a step forward, and, satisfied that the ground was still there, spoke aloud to the darkness. "Well, how 'bout it."

Another voice cut through the dark, a gruff, older sounding voice. "Computer, deactivate holodeck." The darkness disappeared, replaced by a familiar looking series of squares, joined together by yellow lines, expanding out through a room twice the size of the standard Federation quarters. Critch met the gaze of the figures that appeared in front of him. Captain Kelvok, Admiral Blobbin, and Admiral Turock T'Kill.

"How 'bout it. Did I pass?"

Critch's gaze centered on T'Kill, his face challenging him. T'Kill met the look with one of his own. "As you know, this wasn't a pass-or-fail test."

"And you did swell! Better than some Admirals I know…" Blobbin attempted to defuse the tension, as was his specialty. The Baseball cap on his silver head with the giant flashing B did not help matters.

Kelvok filled in before T'Kill could continue. "Despite the loss of the _Maximillian_, you performed as I had expected. You should be proud."

Critch shrugged. "Fantastic." Centering his gaze on T'Kill again, he asked, sternly, "So are we done here?"

T'Kill straightened his uniform. "Yes…for now."

"Good." Critch moved towards the exit. The doors shushed open, and he left, marching quickly.

After he left their view, Blobbin sighed. "You're too hard on him, Turock."

Turock glanced at the ceiling. "We cannot forget what we know about him. By his own admission, he is an admitted spy, sent here by forces we cannot hope to defeat. (_Beyond the Final Frontier)_ Intentional or not, this is a risk we shouldn't have taken."

Kelvok turned his head towards T'Kill. "I believe you are wrong, Admiral."

"I hope I am, Kelvok."

Critch sighed as he angrily marched through the quarters. He was an approved and fully vetted Captain, and had been a full-fledged member of this crew of 400 plus for almost ten years now. He had earned trust and respect from everyone that he had come across, except one. The half-Romulan/half-Human Admiral that seemed to overlook everything good that had been done in favor of putting the screws to someone that really didn't need the aggravation right now. He wasn't in the mood to discuss it right now, or even think about it. After checking in with the bridge, he was ready to get back to his scheduled sleep pattern before embarking on his first mission the next day. Considering the Admiral in charge, he doubted he'd be trusted with much more than garbage scow duty.

He entered the bridge of the _Maximillian_, the real one this time, and marveled at the technology that so perfectly recreated his crewmates, even as they had no idea they were being duplicated in the holodeck as they maintained order.

Overload greeted Critch cheerfully. "Hi, Droid!"

Critch nodded. "Howdy. All is well?"

"Yep! Databit's been practicing flying!"

"That would explain the nacelle I saw flying off on the way here." He joked. "Well, since everything appears ok…" Jaydin nodded at him. "Then I'm going to get some shut-eye. See you all…" A sudden insistent beeping from the communications console interrupted him. "...Now. What is that?"

"Checking." McDaniel tapped a few keys and pressed his earpiece into his ear. "Sounds like background static."

"On speakers." At Critch's command, the noise soon was heard throughout the bridge. At first, it did appear to be just noise. But soon everyone could hear the patterns, the rising and falling of the beats and the fuzziness of the sound.

"I hear a bit of binary in there, Captain." Skrit offered.

"Misplaced communication?"

"Or damaged."

Critch sighed, and sat down, Jaydin moving off to help T'Purr. "Get me a location, I'd like to know where this came from."

As the Bajoran and Caitian worked, Critch tried to pick out a voice, anything that would speed this along. He hated missing rest, but he hated mysteries too.

"Got it!" T'Purr said happily. "It's a very old pattern, very decayed, there must've been some damage, and it's not Federation. It's…"

She looked up suddenly. "Reman. It's a Reman ship."

Critch gave her a confused look. "Reman?"


	3. Chapter 3

For more information and to purchase published works,

please visit maxwriters. pbwiki. com

The following story takes place after "Needs of the Many"

Star Trek: Maximillian

Strength In Darkness

**Chapter II**

Admiral T'Kill appraised Captain Starblade, the android's uniform showing a few wrinkles as he stood. He stared for a moment, almost as if he was attempting to make Critch uncomfortable, and then returned to reading the hastily prepared padd in front of him.

"Twenty-Five, you say?"

"Yes, Sir. On a ship built for forty. A few pods have failed, this ship has been moving for about five years."

"Which would put it as having left right around the time Shinzon started to rise in power." T'Kill sighed, and tossed the padd on the table. "This is the last thing we need right now. Communications with the new Romulan Government aren't going well."

Critch raised an eyebrow. "That's not what the news says."

"You know as well as I do that the news doesn't always have the whole story." T'Kill shook his head. "There's a power struggle down there. Shinzon still lives in the minds of a lot of people. There are rumors about Tomalok. There are rumors about Sela. Hell, half of Romulus thinks that Shinzon's Viceroy is still running around somewhere. It's madness. And it's spreading." T'Kill's voice grew more aggravated with each passing moment.

"Spreading?"

"You saw the weaponry on Bajor. That wasn't the only disruptor that's popped up on a planet where it shouldn't have been. There are rumblings that the Maquis are going to start up again. This is going to turn both quadrants into a powder keg."

T'Kill stood up slowly, and walked to the window, assessing the stars from his window. "We cannot allow that to happen, we have to put out these brush fires before they become galactic incidents."

Critch didn't like where this was going. After getting in range, he had ordered the _Maximillian_ to give a full scan of the Romulan Warbird. It was essentially defenseless, with only minimum shields raised to protect from the standard radiation and random meteorites that would come from a journey through space. Twenty-five Remans, of various body-type, were detected, with minimal life-signs, suggesting a type of long-term hibernation. Their mission was unknown, but T'Purr had quickly worked out that they would eventually reach their destination: The planet Andoria. Critch stood next to him at the window. "What are you proposing?"

"Shinzon's agents have been proven to be typically Reman."

"Most of his agents, you mean." Critch interrupted, but T'Kill ignored it.

"It couldn't be clearer that these are soldiers of Shinzon. We found them, we have to deal with them."

"And what do you mean by that?"

T'Kill sighed. This was just the beginning of one of many arguments he would have with the new Captain. "I'm not sure how much of this crew realizes it, Captain, but we are at war. War with an enemy that could be in any faction at any time, and be of any one of a dozen races allied with the Romulans. And at the forefront is a race that most people didn't even know existed until Shinzon."

"Come on, Admiral, you know that not every Reman is evil. Wasn't there one hanging out with the _Titan_ for a while?" (_Titan: The Red King)_

"Be that as it may, the facts are what they are. These are undoubtedly Shinzon's people. The Warbird should be blown out of the stars."

"Ok, ok, so they're evil maniacal Dracula-looking bastards. What sense does it make to send one tiny Warbird out to Andoria? What can one ship, even if it can cloak, do?"

"So you're saying we should let them go?" T'Kill looked at Critch, surprised.

"Not at all. What I'm saying is that even in war, shooting someone when his back is turned is a hell of a cowardly thing to do. And they haven't shown any signs of aggression. Let's let them prove it."

"What are _you_ proposing, Captain?" T'Kill said, annoyed.

"Little bit of spying never hurt anyone, Admiral. Let's go meet the neighbors, wake them up, see what they think of us."

"I imagine even if they weren't on Shinzon's side, they would still see us as a threat."

"Not if we don't appear to be…" Critch reached up with one hand, and pinched one of his ears. "If Federation doctors can make humans and Bajorans look like Klingons, I'm sure transforming us into Romulans would be no sweat."

"Infiltration?"

"Why not? Let them think their golden boy won, and we fly the fleet of Shinzon. Because we don't know how many other ships are out there, invisible. Maybe the cloak failed on this one, and instead of a small brush fire, we can stop a bonfire."

"They'd still notice a _Sovereign_ class ship…"

"Little bits of fakery here and there, borrow a few holo-emitters from Skrit, and voila! _Scorpion_ vessel, at your service!"

"You sound almost…excited about this."

"Can you blame me? I thought all I'd be doing is chasing comets around, but instead we've got an interstellar war to avert!"

"Captain, this is a serious matter. Infiltration is a long-practiced skill, it takes years to master…"

"As you haven't let me forget, Admiral, I was created for subterfuge. The fact that I'm here right now is because I was intended to be a glorified spy. So let me be a spy for you. Instead of taking the easy way out and looking the other way when we lose a few planets, lets get to the bottom of this. Then, we can blow them up." Critch inwardly grimaced as he used the 'spy' lie to T'Kill, but if it worked…

"…Fine, Captain. I'll allow it. On two conditions."

Critch drew himself up. "Yes sir!"

"One, if this goes wrong, never question or even offer an opposing comment to my orders ever again. This is your chance to prove me wrong, something I don't allow many to do, and I have no idea why I'm allowing you to do it."

"Gotcha."

"And two…my name is Admiral T'Kill to you. I allow many different kinds of insubordination under my watch on this ship. But if you call me Turock one more time, Captain, you will be chasing comets for the rest of your career, do we have an understanding?"

Critch fought the urge to roll his eyes, and agreed. They saluted, and Critch retreated from T'Kill's ready room, as the Admiral returned to his chair, and looked over the Warbird's schematics on the padd one more time, and hoped he wasn't making a mistake taking Blobbin's suggestion to go easier on the android.

"Not so rough!" Skrit snapped.

"This isn't exactly easy, so quiet!" Jaydin snapped back, as she ran the device over his ear. The ear was slowly forming a point at the top. "I still have one left to go and then you're done." Skrit sighed. Jaydin shook her head. "It's a lot harder with the others, all I have to do with you is change your holo-emitter a bit."

"It's still like getting my head caught in a rice-picker." He muttered, but put up with it.

The away team consisted of him, Critch, Overload, Admiral T'Kill, and Kelvok. T'Kill wanted to go along to keep an eye on things, and since he was already physically a Romulan no makeup was required, although there was a slight tweaking in case they knew of him by reputation and sight. Kelvok, being Vulcan, only needed a littler more. The hard part was Critch, requiring a lot of makeup. Fortunately for him, it was a simple process to stretch and file down his ears to form a point, since he turned off his pain receptors and figured that the nanobots would repair the damage in time. Not too soon, he hoped.

The hard part was acting as a Romulan team. While T'Kill and Kelvok knew almost everything about Romulans that there was to know, Critch and Skrit required a little more teaching. Despite his heritage and abilities, Critch still learned at a normal pace, since there was no way for Federation technology to link with Marconian, at least not yet. So for them it was a long road, condensed into a week. And when it was done, Skrit swore that the only thing he got out of it was to 'act more emotional'.

He was finding it a bit difficult to maintain his form than usual, since at least half of his emitters were being redeployed on the exterior of the _Maximillian_. When the process, overseen by Lieutenant Squirrelly, was complete, the ship would be visually indistinguishable from an actual _Scimitar_ warship. As far as scans, that was trickier. Once the emitters were deployed, Squirrelly and his engineering team would transfer over to changing the frequencies and instruments of the _Maximillian_ to more accurately portray what a _Scimitar_ would. It was all very touch and go, and time-consuming.

Finally, Critch and the away team stood on the bridge of the _Maximillian_, assessing the work. Far more emitters were needed, and more power. Cables were strung everywhere throughout the bridge, and Critch assessed them.

"Not exactly what I had in mind, but I'll take it if it works."

T'Purr frowned. "You know we're going to be pretty defenseless if things hit the fan."

"Then let's make sure they don't do that." T'Kill spoke directly to Critch, who shrugged it off.

"We're all professionals here." He turned to Skrit. "You sure you can hold up under one emitter? I know long term isn't your thing…"

"Doing ok so far. Jaydin seeing us off?"

"She's down in sickbay, probably preparing for things to hit the fan." Critch smirked at T'Kill, who gave him a dark look.

A green light came up on a rear station, and Kelvok looked over his shoulder at the team. "Everything is ready, Captain."

"Then lets go. Hit the lights!"

The lights dimmed, but to a casual observer nothing changed on the bridge of the ship. From the exterior, however, things were much different, the _Maximillian_ had seemed to flicker a bit, and then in waves the great ship turned into an even larger one. Within a minute, the _Sovereign _was a _Scimitar_.

Critch read the readout, and grinned. "Phase two!" He yelled. Every station on the ship flickered out, as though rebooting. The lights went completely out, and then back on. But the lighting was completely different. The normal soft white was replaced with a greenish tint, and where there were statistics about the normal workings there were now schematics of a _Scimitar_ class ship.

Overload grinned. "Woot!" Critch grinned with her, and Skrit looked lost in thought.

"What should we name her?"

"New ship, new name. Hmm…"

"Call her The Mistake." T'Kill said quietly.

"Even better. The '_Rehllai_'"

T'Kill and Kelvok's eyebrows both went up as Critch walked towards the turbolift doors. Skrit followed quickly. "Wait, what's that mean?"

Critch smiled as he entered the turbolift. "To Explode."

Four Starfleet crewmembers transported from the _Rehllai_. Four Romulans materialized on the Romulan Warbird _Llaihr III. _ Translated into Federation standard, it simply reads: _The Third Death._


	4. Chapter 4

For more information and to purchase published works,

please visit maxwriters. pbwiki. com

The following story takes place after "Needs of the Many"

Star Trek: Maximillian

Strength In Darkness

**Chapter III**

Once the initial discomfort and small traces of nausea wore off, the now-Romulan away team began to get their bearings on the room they had just beamed in on. They were directly in front of the command seat, where the vessel's Commander would rule from a slightly raised platform. Design-wise, there was much in common with a Federation ship. The same auxiliary stations to the rear and to the front of the Commander, and the same viewscreen setup, though slightly smaller. The bridge was much smaller, giving a kind of cramped atmosphere. Skrit instantly disliked it. While he had no problem with working with anyone to accomplish a task, he did require his space. Having everything so close together would undoubtedly work against any probable notions of functioning more efficiently. Instead, he thought that it would just serve to add more tension in whatever conflict would be taking place.

If it bothered anyone else in the room, it wasn't noticeable. The remainder of the team glanced around, took in their surroundings, and proceeded with their plans. Kelvok took a small easily hideable tricorder from his pants pocket and began to scan around the room. Overload, not needing any electronic equipment as she was a machine herself, looked around slowly, in an odd sort of sweeping motion that would have seemed slightly unnerving to anyone else, but wasn't acknowledged. T'Kill moved to a panel in the front of the bridge and began tapping away at it, while Critch moved to the Commander's seat. Glancing at it a moment, he then shrugged, and sat down.

Kelvok spoke, without looking away from his tricorder. "Lifesigns, Captain. Twenty Remans."

T'Kill nodded. "Most in medical section, a few decks down." He turned to Overload. "Any security systems?" Romulan technology wasn't always out in the open.

"Nope! All clear." She said with a smile, and then glanced at Critch. "Aren't you going to do _anything?_" He was staring intently on a small panel on the right arm of the Command chair. After a moment, he tapped it, then kept tapping it.

"No patience, I swear…If anyone would know what's going on, it's the Captain." He ignored a soft 'huh' sound from Skrit and continued. "And these guys would have to report back to Shinzon or the Viceroy or someone, so he'd keep a log just like we do…and I bet…Got it!"

T'Kill grunted. "What?"

"The warbird _Llaihr III _set out on a glorious mission of conquest, with the finest warriors from Remus. To further weaken the defenses of the hated Federation during what would undoubtedly be a war of many …days? Years? Translator doesn't like that word…"

"Generations." Kelvok offered.

"That's it, thanks. They set out to the hated Andoria to…ah hell."

"What is it?" Overload cocked her head.

"Kelvok, see if you're picking up any radiation in the background, would ya?

Nodding, he presses the tricorder a few times. An eyebrow shot up as though under it's own power. "Thayleron."

Critch stood. "This thing's a suicide ship. They're going to drive this thing right into Andoria. Kill billions."

T'Kill looked at Critch. "Shinzon was adept at tactical situations. Long-range plans. He may have planned for the war to be at Andoria's doorstep when this thing arrived. Quick victory."

Skrit was focused on a screen at the back of the bridge, making small adjustments. "And if it wasn't necessary, then he had an answer for that too. The system is loaded with back doors and strange bits of code, a lot of it wired right into the self-destruct system. If Shinzon was still around, he could have blown this ship up at any time."

"Only thing he never planned on was losing." T'Kill grimly added.

Critch smiled. "Then we have something in common."

"Lets do him a favor. Commander, set self…"

"Not yet, Admiral. I wasn't finished. This log makes reference to other 'fine warriors', other great victories. Not to mention that Andoria isn't a great enemy of either the Romulans or Remans. A charter member of the Federation, but that's about it. Destroying them may win a battle but it could just cause everyone else to fight harder."

T'Kill sighed. "Your point?"

"My point is that this isn't the only Reman ship. Probably one heading to every planet in the Federation right now, waiting on Shinzon's war."

There was silence for a moment as T'Kill considered this. "You're still intent on waking them?"

"We didn't get all dressed up for nothing, Admiral."

He sighed heavily. "Fine, it's your funeral. Commander?"

Skrit didn't turn around. "Ready in 3…2…there. Their sensors are locked down. They won't see anything we don't want them to see."

"Excellent. To medical then?" Critch offered an arm to Overload, who happily took it, and they moved off, the rest of the team behind them, T'Kill suddenly feeling the beginnings of a great headache.

Tamak sat back on his haunches, taking in the silence that surrounded him in the main mess area on the _Maximillian_. Ordinarily he would welcome the time to meditate, or concentrate on whatever task he was involved with. However, for the past few weeks, ever since he had been released from the makeshift prison of his quarters, the continued lack of any communication from his crewmates at all was beginning to disturb him.

It hadn't been too long since the incident which caused him to again go up before a review board, but still he could not remember anything about the event. He knew he had ordered the _Maximillian_ forward into harms way, but for the very life of him he did not know why he had done such a thing. It had been done unconsciously, without purpose or malice, but still it had been done. And while, as a Vulcan, he could not say he was sorry for it, he did regret the happenings all the same.

He was familiar with the review board, having been both on one and in front of one before. He had served on one to determine the fate of Lieutenant Commander Starblade just after the Marconian incident three years before, which had of course cleared him of any wrongdoing, even though he had violated several Starfleet regulations. The circumstances of his own review, commonly referred to as a 'Captain's Mast', were far stranger.

It was during the _Maximillian's_ long and mostly dull sojourn into the Menkare Expanse, where the ship, commanded by Tamak himself, had been ordered to hunt down a race of aliens that had infiltrated the highest posts in Starfleet. The investigation had proved fruitless, but was not without event. During the mission, Tamak had entered a rare case of advanced Pon Farr, which had caused him to become angry and deluded, unable to be reasoned with. Events quickly spiraled out of control, resulting in an out-of-control shuttlecraft chase around Sol, and a lost Admiral Lyon sometime in Earth's past. It was only by coincidence that Lyon was rescued, a fact that Lyon had reminded Tamak about many times before his death, even though he wouldn't have minded if he had been stuck there forever. The facts remained that Tamak was derelict of duty, and the result was a demotion. It had been a long hard road for him to regain what rank he had left, and becoming chief of a department. And in one fell swoop all of that had been removed from him again.

This most recent review mainly consisted of fears that he was once again suffering from a rare Vulcan ailment, which he vehemently denied. At the end, there was no demotion, and there was no need. The command staff had changed, Kelvok no longer holding the chief post but instead stepping aside, undoubtedly to avoid his own Captain's mast. He was pleased to learn that Starblade had been chosen for the Captaincy, and realized that his own precarious state likely doomed him from remaining on the command staff. The review board prevented him from taking any command post for at least two years, effectively placing him on probation, and sent him back to the Maximillian, if they would have him.

He inwardly sighed, not revealing his thoughts of abandonment. Since he had returned, not one crewmember had said more than a few words to him. He had never been the most popular crewmember, of course, but now even the short pleasant greetings had silenced. As said, he appreciated his solitude, but he had become accustomed to those he had known as his friends sharing their time with him. Only Turock, Critch, Overload, and Kelvok had spoken to him at length over the past few weeks, and even then he could see the distrust and suspicion behind their eyes. None of them, nor the crew, could forget that the death of the young ensign was on his hands, the result of the horrible transporter accident caused by the nearby electrical disturbances. Not even Tamak himself could forget, nor did he wish to. Despite his unknowingness and unwillingness, it was still his fault that he had succumbed to the unconscious urge to do what he had done. It was a miracle that he was still allowed on any sort of duty.

He blinked, a sudden dizzy spell overcoming him and then dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. He ignored it. He had been feeling such things all day. He would have to speak to his replacement in engineering about rations in the tricorder. Perhaps there was some sort of nourishment deficiency…

It happened again. And again. Tamak stood up, noting that the room seemed stretched out somehow. This time the dizziness stayed, and he heard very loudly his heart pounding in his ears. Still alert, he noticed that no-one else seemed to be effected by what was happening. Sickbay. Commander Jaydin would have answers, and most probably a cure. Tamak took a step, and his body continued to move even though his legs no longer did. His consciousness fading fast, his considerable bulk struck the calmly colored carpeted floor with a loud thump. The last sight he would see this day was the crewmembers that had ostracized him rushing to his aid, and then nothing but black.

"Coma? How?" Turock asked. Jaydin had contacted the away team only a minute before they had reached the medical area, and were now being informed on Tamak's condition, huddled in the hallway.

"That's the thing, I'm not sure. Every scan I have shows him to be completely healthy and normal. Heartbeat is fine, vitals are fine, it's just _him_ that's off. It's like someone just hit his off switch. No offense, Overload."

Ignoring Overload's indignant squeak, Critch followed up. "Any connection to…uh, his earlier condition?"

"Pon Farr wouldn't cause this, at least so far that nothing that we have indicates."

"I concur." Kelvok said. "You say that he was eating calmly in the mess hall. Anything relating to Pon Farr would certainly cause a different appearance."

Jaydin was surprised at Kelvok's openness regarding the guarded condition. "Anything else you can think of? We're getting ready for another scan."

"Keep him well hydrated. With luck, the problem will illuminate itself."

"Thanks. Good luck guys. Jaydin out."

"Yep." Critch tapped his badge once. "Cap'n to bridge, we're going quiet. Track our vitals, anything goes wrong, get us out of here." He tapped it again, and all was quiet. He then bowed and waved his hands, motioning his crew into the medical area.

Not surprisingly, the area was not built for comfort. Romulans could be very efficient if given the opportunity, and their medical quarters were an example. Like the bridge, far more cramped, only a few metal slabs, built into the ground. There were, of course, the usual computers and supplies, but unique to this ship were what looked like coffins, spread around in no particular order or arrangement as though they had been shoehorned in without regard for aesthetics. Once again, Critch supposed, efficient to the last. Each 'coffin' showed a single green light, softly illuminating the occupant. From the twelve coffins that were contained in this area, they could confirm that their scans were correct. All of them were Remans.

Overload shivered. "It's like they're all dead."

Turock smirked. "Not dead. Just hibernation. Rare, but it does happen on long voyages." He glanced at Critch. "You ready?"

Critch nodded. "Let's meet the neighbors." He rolled his shoulders, attempted to get into character as the Romulan Captain of the Warbird _Rehllai_.He hoped the Remans hadn't had much contact with Romulans. He knew he hadn't, other than by combining Kelvok and Turock.

"Break a leg, everyone." He mumbled, then pressed two tabs on the right side of the coffins.

There was a sharp hiss, and the lights turned to red. Critch straightened up, as did the others, each trying to look as much like a Romulan as they could. Turock and Kelvok glanced at each other, Turock suppressing a laugh.

Air escaped from the coffin, and then the hard glass encasing slowly slid down. For a moment Critch thought all of this was for nothing, the Reman wasn't going to wake up, they were all dead. Then the Reman coughed once. Then several times, and he leaned over the side and spit a glob of green fluid onto the metal deck. He blinked, willing his eyes to work. From his viewpoint, he was startled after a moment when five Romulans, one slight female wearing some kind of facial ornament, two distinguished looking ones, obviously command material, and two youngish men. He growled unconsciously, and attempted to speak, not even noticing that his speech was being translated instantly, thanks to Skrit's quick installation of a Federation translator in the outdated Romulan computers. "Who…are…you?"

To his surprise, it was neither of the distinguished Romulans who spoke, but one of the younger men. "Commander C'Rit of the _Rehllai _serving Shinzon's armada!" He saluted in the Romulan way, followed by each of the other 'Romulans'. Warily, still trying to get his bearings, the Reman saluted back.

Critch had been careful to bring up Shinzon's name early in the proceedings, trying to gain the Reman's trust any way he could. Even so, he knew it would not be this easy, so he remained on his guard as the Reman stood slowly, offering his own name. "Kimir." He appraised the others, who were also prepared with their own chosen names.

"Maddox!" Overload sung out sternly, using her own name as it would also pass as a Romulan one. As did Skrit, using extra emphasis at the beginning, sounding like "Ska-rit." Turock and Kelvok did not change their names at all, knowing that none of the Remans would be learned on Federation ship captains, particularily since there should be no Federation in existence at this point.

Satisfied, Kimir spoke again. "My soldiers?" Not crew, not men. Soldiers. Critch remembered his training about respecting other cultures. Even those that wanted him dead. Still, there was bitterness in his reply that went unnoticed.

"Alive, still in hibernation. We will wake them…"

"No! Wait...why are you here?" Kimir challenged.

Turock readied his prepared answer. "We have been sent by the viceroy Vkruk to retrieve those lost warriors sent to their dooms. Your war is over, my friend. Andoria has already fallen. The Federation is now our lapdogs." He said this with some measure of satisfaction, falling easily, maybe too easily into the role. Kelvok raised an eyebrow.

"Shinzon rules then?" Kimir nodded. "Then that would be good news. If you have truly been sent by Shinzon himself. Or perhaps you are a Romulan traitor, sent for our weapons. Or worse than that." The Reman drew himself to his full considerable height, towering over each of the 'Romulans'. "What evidence do you bring? How do you prove your loyalty?"

Critch was prepared for this, as well. "We bring our ship, available for inspection, and at your command. We bring only ourselves, our loyalty."

Turock picked up on his cue. His role as the honorable Subcommander, defending his people. "And we bring the fact that we have not killed you and taken your ship for ourselves."

Kimir was quiet, setting the entire away team on a slight edge. And then boisterously laughed. "As though you could. Even with the entire Reman army frozen, even a thousand Romulans would stand no chance! Take me to my crew; I desire their freedom from frozen sleep." As Kimir turned, Critch relaxed, shrugged to his team, and followed.

One by one, the Remans awoke. It was arranged for Kimir to be the first one they saw as they came back to life. He prepared each of them in turn for the Romulan presence, and they followed their Commander's lead in acknowledging them and then joining in the awaking for the compatriots. Throughout all of this, Kimir spoke the most not to his soldiers, and not to C'Rit, but instead Subcommander Turock. C'Rit took no offense at this, as the two were similar in age, and of course, were mostly the same race. Indeed, Kimir wondered aloud how someone of C'Rit's stature and age had made it to the rank of Commander before Turock. Turock made a thin joke about killing off the rest of his elders, which Kimir responded well too, and for the rest of the adventure would refer to C'Rit not as Commander, but 'Klingon dog!" Having many Klingon friends, Critch felt it an honor, even if he could not say so.

Then it was to the last, and as Kimir said, the most important of them all, at least in his own head. His own subcommander, a larger Reman, named S'Rka. "Large in stature, and ego!" Kimir said as he hit the release button, and watched with the rest of his crew as the dazed Reman slowly woke up, and appraised them, his eyes darkening as they came into focus and seeing the Romulan team.

"Who are these….infidels?" Was the first thing S'Rka uttered after the customary salutes.

"They are friends of Shinzon." Kimir's voice turned from cheerful to biting. "And that makes them friends of us."

"Shinzon would not have woken us so easily. Shinzon would have merely sent us on another mission."

C'Rit attempted to help. "There are no more missions. The war has past, and we are victors!" He raised his arms in celebration, his team and more than a few Remans with him, but S'Rka did not join in.

"Your word is meaningless without evidence! Show us your ship! Show us your words have truth!"

Kimir tried to calm his subcommander. "You know as well as I do that we cannot simply move to another ship in our state, we have only awoken! We must tread lightly, if only for a few more hours…"

"Commander, you have been tricked! These are no servants of Shinzon! They are…"

"They are our guests, S'Rka!" Kimir turned to Turock, apologetic in posture, then looked back. "And by my command, they will be treated as such!"

"They must be killed quickly, before they can bewitch you further, Commander!" S'Rka hissed.

"No more of this talk, SUB-Commander." He over-emphasized the smaller rank. "Come, soldiers! We will prepare a feast from our humble stores." He turned to C'Rit. "Where our guests will regale us with stories of the time we have missed, and the victory of Shinzon!" The cheering began again.

S'Rka held his ground, not backing down or moving. "I will not dine with Romulans." If he could have he would have spit at the name of the race.

Kimir appraised him. After a moment, he spoke again. "Then you will not dine." He grabbed S'Rka by the arm, pulling him along, and the soldiers followed. Critch frowned at Turock, the others remaining silent, still in their roles as subservient crew, one that Critch hoped that they would remain in.

"That could have gone better."

Turock nodded. "And it could have gone worse." And the Romulans followed the Remans deeper into the ship.


	5. Chapter 5

For more information and to purchase published works,

please visit maxwriters. pbwiki. com

The following story takes place after "Needs of the Many"

Star Trek: Maximillian

Strength In Darkness

**Chapter IV**

The easy lights of the Maximillian's sickbay shone down upon the still body of Lieutenant Commander Tamak. After the incident in the mess hall, he had not moved nor shone any signs of life, seemingly preferring to lay comatose first on the floor, and now on one of the free beds. The bio-bed delivered his vitals and other information directly to the various stations around the bay, including the one that Commander Jaydin now sat out. Looking over the results of the last battery of tests that had run, she frowned, turning to her assistant, Commander Abraham Cottle.

"I still don't get it. Physically, there's nothing wrong with him. As far as we can tell, mentally he's fine too." She crossed back over to Tamak's body, peering at him. Cottle followed, muttering.

"I don't think mentally he was ever 'fine'." He tapped his own padd. Jaydin glanced at him.

"I wasn't aware you knew him."

"Only by reputation. Captain dumps an Admiral, gets demoted a few times, but moving back up like nothing ever happened."

"There's a long story to Tamak, Commander."

He sighed. "There always is."

"And it's weird, he's been fine for years, even before I joined the ship. Now what happened at the planet, and this."?

"Some kind of untold Vulcan nuttiness? He's not exactly young…"

"For a Vulcan he's fairly middle aged. No family history, at least from what he's told us, of any disease. And regardless, there are no signs of anything. Brain patterns normal."

As the two doctors mulled over Tamak's condition, the Vulcan himself showed no signs of hearing or comprehension. Somewhere, deep in his brain, the words registered, as though they were still being registered. Somewhere else, the signal was sent to keep him in his current state. And the Maximillian computers picked none of this up as they worked away, oblivious to the dire events that were happening right underneath them.

It occurred to Critch, as he sat in a very uncomfortable position, sitting up on the floor, that he had no idea what to expect from this dinner. There were very few records about Reman cuisine in the Federation databanks, and what they ate, even how they ate, was unknown. _"I'm sure some braincase is going to write a hundred-page paper on this."_ He thought as he leaned back, not quite able to arch his back to reveal his lack of comfort. A quick glance around the central area revealed no such discomfort.

He realized that some Remans, most famously Shinzon's Viceroy, had rudimentary telepathic abilities, and with that in mind the others had slipped as far into character as they could go. Even Overload was displaying the pose and look of a formal Romulan officer. _"Thank God she didn't bring Databit along."_ He thought. _"Imagine having to explain him to the Remans_." For T'Kill and Kelvok, the ruse came easily, considering their shared Romulan heritage. Keeping a watch on his crewmates out of the corner of one eye, Critch turned and appraised his Reman hosts, settling themselves around the hard floor in a circle, each placing themselves in between the 'Romulans', undoubtedly to prevent any secret conversations. Their leader trusted them, but they were taking no chances.

Kimir cracked his knuckles, and called loudly to his cook. "WE ARE PREPARED!" Then he turned his attention back to his guests. "You have not eaten food until you have eaten Reman food!" He said with an unclean grin, and gestured towards the small bowls that were quickly being brought out. "Delicacies, prepared for our last meal. But as you say, there is no need for it to be our last any longer!"

T'Kill, a glass of blue liquid having just been prepared for him, took a sip, swishing it around in his mouth. "One of the greatest things about the new order is that the Kali-Fal now is free to be drank throughout the quadrant." He was careful to use the Romulan name for what was more commonly referred to as the long-illegal Romulan Ale. If Kimir or his officers were impressed by the use of the word, they did not show it, instead beginning to serve themselves from the bowls.

Critch glanced down, and immediately turned off his ability to taste. Not one of his proudest abilities, but one that he was surely glad to have right now. In the bowls in front of him sat, or more accurately crawled, some sort of bug with twelve legs, a large number of eyes that spread all over it's shell, and a red underbelly. There were two in each bowl, and crawled around with no apparently comprehension for what was to become of it. Joining the two bowls was another in the center, this one with a leafy substance, almost like a salad. With a start he realized that the leaves were moving too. With recent experiences in mind, he made a mental note to stay far, far away from the salad. He glanced to Overload, who had already taken a bite out of the salad. Before he could warn her, she squealed as she felt it moving inside of her mouth.

The Remans burst out laughing. "It takes a delicate stomach to handle the Krep-tac leavings first! You should train your crew better, Commander!"

"Tell me about it." Critch muttered, and tried not to ponder what he meant by 'leavings'.

"Kimir, tell me, what are your plans now that the war is over?" T'Kill looked at him with interest. Mulling it over, the Romulan Commander looked back thoughtfully, or at least as thoughtfully as a Reman could look.

"Hopefully, my skills at destroying my ship will not be needed!" He paused as his crew chuckled, then continued. "We shall return to Romulus and await further orders."

Overload squinted her eyes. "That's all?"

"What else is there? We are soldiers, after all."

"Yes, a race bred for war and conquest. But there is peace now. Perhaps Shinzon will attempt to maintain that." Kelvok said, as he placed one of the insects carefully in his mouth, and bit down with a gooey crunch.

"You are in a far better position to say what Shinzon will or will not do. It has been years since we have seen him. In the history of both our cultures, peace has only come at the point of a weapon, whether by knife or gun or sword."

Critch nodded. "But none of those has ever made a lasting peace."

"There is no such thing. There is not a world in the stars that maintains peace for long. Eventually there will be jealousy, cruelty, some act of violence that compels the multitudes to go against their better natures, and then peace ends." He stopped, and a Reman to Overload's left picked up where Kimir left off.

"This is where _Remans begin!_" There was a general cheering and banging on the floor, as another Reman across the way continued.

"We are made for conflict! We are the deciders, the conquerors. We will never give in, no matter the cost!"

Another cheer, and then Kimir raised a hand, and the room instantly grew silent, as he looked again upon T'Kill. "Please, do not misunderstand me or any of us. I, as much as any of us, wish for peace, for wars to end and for there to be no more need of our race. But you know as well as I do that there is still need. The humans will rise again, they tend to do that, and Shinzon still has human in his blood as much as Reman. He will not wipe them out, they will return. And for that I think we are glad."

"Glad?" Skrit asked.

"Glad because then there is a chance of dying for something again, whether it be for Shinzon's benefit, or for the cause of another side's peace." It remained silent as he finished, as his crew was unsure how to take his final statement. Critch exchanged a worried glance with T'Kill, which was not caught by any of the Remans.

"But enough of this harshness!" Kimir recovered his boisterousness. "Tell us stories of the great wars!" He grinned and leaned forward towards his new friends.

As Critch and his crew began to tell their carefully constructed lies to the Remans, S'rka watched them closely on several monitors from the bridge of the Llaihr III. Unlike the other Remans, he had caught the small looks and gestures between the Romulans, and his distrust had only grown, especially since it almost seemed like they were questioning the mission! His anger was shared with his Commander, who now more than ever seemed less like a great leader and instead just another tired, burned-out warrior, unfit for command. He kept one eye on the great Scimitar warship, still facing them, wondering what the next move would be.

Night had fallen on the _Maximillian_, and despite the high alert status, many stations had been nearly deserted or shut down completely. A skeleton crew was manning the low-priority stations, though many were on call. However, since the situation seemed to be well in hand, little worry was being paid anywhere else but on the bridge and in engineering where Skrit's sensors were being maintained and backed up with extra power conduits. This did mean that several sections were operating on emergency power only, and lights were dimmed throughout the ship.

The same was true even in sickbay, the dim lights shining down on the lifeless body of Tamak. His section was completely deserted, the nurses in their office, going over charts, preparing treatments. So no one was paying any attention to the patient with the unknown illness.

The medical stations registered nothing out of the ordinary, even when Tamak suddenly sat straight up in bed, his eyes open, but not seeing or acknowledging anything. He deftly pulled the few cables that were attached to his skin out, and then stood up completely, still not being detected by anyone in sickbay. As far as the medical stations were concerned, he was still laying in bed. It had been hours since anyone had last checked on him. It would still be hours before the next scheduled look-in. So no one noticed when Tamak, dressed only in his medical garb, walked out onto the empty floors of the hallway. He glanced around, still in a daze, his eyes never blinking. He crossed decks deftly, far more quickly than should be expected of him even if he was conscious to his actions. Eventually he reached his quarters, which had not been locked or tampered with in any way, making it far too easy for him to enter, again undetected.

Once inside, it was child's play for him to access the ships computer, his voice a low baritone, and give it commands, all the while working on his own engineering station. The buttons were tapped far faster than anyone but an android could do, and certainly beyond his normal abilities, but right now the last thing that Tamak was, was normal.

In Engineering, Squirrelly was giving his equipment an once-over, making sure that the projectors were receiving enough power for their task, when he noticed it. One by one, power couplers and stabilizers were going down all around the ship, all in areas directly surrounding the projectors. More and more energy was being fed directly into the conduits, overloading them. Quickly he barked orders to his staff, his hands and even his tail working as many controls as he could. But whatever he could do was being outmatched by Tamak's years of experience, and as knowledgeable as Squirrelly was, Tamak had been a chief Engineer of the Maximillian for far longer, and he knew his craft. Beyond even that, Tamak was seemingly possessed with power far beyond what he should have. So the results were clear even from the onset.

Before the bridge could react, before anyone on the ship could do anything about it, the projectors began to overload, and one by one shorted out. Jaydin, within the minutes that this began to happen, had arrived on the bridge, but by then all she could do is watch.

S'rka glanced up at the Scimitar, growled under his breath, glanced down at the continuing dinner, and then quickly looked back up. The large ship had begun to shimmer, almost as if it was going to cloak. What reason would they have to cloak? They had the superior position, and their senior staff was on board!

Then the shimmering stopped, and from right to left the Scimitar seemed to almost dissolve, until it was completely gone, replaced by…

S'rka growled in triumph. There was no Scimitar. The ruse was revealed.

By the time red alert was signaled, Tamak had quickly returned to his bed in sickbay. No one would notice he had ever left. Not that his whereabouts were a priority at this point. Instead, the dormant ship had come to life, all hands to their stations, and Jaydin had ordered all weapons trained on the Warbird.

"Squirrelly! What's going on?" Jaydin called to engineering, after being satisfied that the Warbird was not about to take off with their crew.

"I…don't know! The whole system just overloaded!"

"Commander! Shields are down!" T'Purr's eyes widened as Jaydin balled up her fists, "Squirrelly, get our shields back up, forget about the projectors. Our covers blown! Xan!"

The Trill in charge of Communications swiveled in her chair. "Aye!"

"Hail them!"

A tense moment passed. "No response!"

There were no forward facing windows where the dinner was taking place, so it was a surprise when four armed Remans came out of seemingly nowhere, moving stealthily despite their size, and trained their weapons on the away team. Critch quickly sprung to his feet, joined by the others, ready to take on the group. T'Kill, still trying to salvage their lie, spoke. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Oh, you know full well the meaning, Admiral Turock T'Kill, traitor." S'rka came out of a darkened corridor.

"Explain yourself, Sub-Commander!" Kimir's rage grew with the very sight of his officer.

"As I suspected, we have been fooled, Commander, look out the windows, see their deception! They are not of Romulus, they are Federation spies!" The Remans looked to the windows, and saw the _Maximillian_, proudly holding its position.

"How?" Kimir shook his head in disbelief.

"Their vaunted technology has failed them, and we have been the recipients of a great gift." He held up a padd of Romulan design. "Information!" He passed by the away team, guns still trained on them, not allowing them a single movement. "Captain Critch Starblade. Marconian android. Admiral Turock T'Kill, Romulan and a traitor. Lieutenant Commander Overload Soong-Maddox…ahh, another Soongian android! Captain Kelvok, Vulcan…and Lieutenant Commander Skrit, an energy being…my my, what shall we do with you…" He snapped his fingers, and one of the guns fired, striking Skrit directly on his carefully concealed projection emitter. In an instant, Skrit disappeared. Overload cried out, and Critch moved forward in anger.

"Relax! That shot merely overloaded the emitter, I'm sure his energy is still safe inside…though I only know what this tells me." He waved the padd in the air.

"But…What of Shinzon? What of the War?"

S'rka shook his head, and moved close to T'Kill, angrily staring him in the eyes. "The war never happened, Commander. Shinzon was killed."

The wailing was great, and Kimir's anger greater.

"Commander, they're answering our hail!"

"Finally." Jaydin muttered, and drew herself up. She had never sought command, only taking the first officer position as a favor to Critch. But now it seemed that she'd have to do something after all. She started to speak as the face of S'rka appeared on the screen. "Reman Warship, this is…"

"Federation starship Maximillian. Commander Jaydin Aleya, Bajoran. Yes, we know all about you and your capabilities, your crew. You will leave."

"I will not leave our crew, I'd sooner destroy your ship. You can't outlast our weapons."

"If you fire upon our ship we will execute your crewmembers as painfully as possible. If you leave us we will place them on a habitable planet. You have five minutes to decide. We know all of your crew, we can detect them, do not test us, do not try and fool us again." As quickly as the short conversation began it ended. Jaydin stood silently, mulling over the impossible decision that she had placed before her.


	6. Chapter 6

For more information and to purchase published works,

please visit maxwriters. pbwiki. com

The following story takes place after "Needs of the Many"

Star Trek: Maximillian

Strength In Darkness

**Chapter V**

For years, Jaydin Aleya had encountered hardship, and persevered. She had lived through the Cardassian occupation of Bajor, suffered through dark times and come through it to graduate from Starfleet Academy, and beyond that become Chief Medical Officer of a starship, a position to which many aspire to and few achieve. She had even become the First officer, and one of the most looked-up-to people on the _Maximillian_. But nothing in Commander Jaydin's career had prepared her for this decision.

The viewscreen went blank, and for a moment she was alone with her thoughts. Five minutes. That was the time limit to decide the fate of her friends and crewmates. Attempt a rescue, and they would certainly be killed. Run away, and they may die anyway. Inwardly, she counted to five, and remembered that despite her inner terror, she was made Commander for a reason. She had the respect of this ship, and she was trusted to have the ability to lead. And lead she would.

She turned to Commander Chubb at armory. "All right, tactical, how long would we need to get in there?"

He shook his head. "We'd have no problem in a straight combat situation. But we couldn't get through their shields quick enough before they had the opportunity to…" He didn't finish.

"And their cloaking device kills any tracking possibility." T'Purr groaned.

"There's almost no chance that they'll let the team go willingly, even after they take off. They are too valuable as hostages." Nilrathi glumly stated, his disdain obvious even through the distortion of having Horta-speak go through the universal translator.

"Especially once they figure out that they're alone in the galaxy. No Romulan or Reman group will want to touch them." Jaydin finished the thought. "But I won't cause their death without a reason, so an attack is out. Any arguments?" She looked around the bridge, not finding any opposition. "Good. We have about two and a half minutes to come up with another alternative."

"What about forgoing an attack, and just sending the rapid response team over?" Ensign Xan offered, hopefully, only to have Jaydin shake her head at the suggestion.

"Wouldn't work. Can't beam through their shields, and there's not enough time to send them through space. Not that the Remans wouldn't notice a force of Klingons heading their way."

It was silent for a moment, each of the command crew racking their brains for a solution. It was Nilrathi's voice, for some reason with a slight British accent, which was heard next. "How about someone they couldn't track?"

Jaydin sighed, sinking into the Captain's chair. "They know our crew roster, and all the races on board. If they see someone coming, they'll know who it is immediately."

"Ah, but I'm talking about someone they wouldn't see coming. And someone who officially isn't on our crew." The electronic equipment on Nirathi's 'cart' pointed towards the Operations chair, which was being filled by Ensign Nefaria in Overload's absence. For a brief moment, Nefaria thought they were talking about him, and the fox's fur bristled with nervousness. Then he realized along with the rest of the crew that the Horta Xenobiologist wasn't talking about him, but instead the small figure perched on the console.

If a Horta could smile, Nilrathi would have as he gestured towards Databit. "Hey little buddy, wanna take a trip?"

All things considered, Critch thought, it could have been worse.

What passed for a brig in this Romulan ship wasn't much different than the standard Federation prisons. A bench to sit on, a cot, and that was about it. Same dreary walls, albeit in a faint green glow, and nothing more. The only main difference was that there was a small circular window. Turock had supposed upon his initial glance that it was actually made to open up, so to expose the prisoners to space if their captors deemed necessary. Not that it would have made much difference, but the away team chose to keep their distance from it. Critch wasn't afraid of it, however, as his android body would keep him safe if it was opened, but he feared instead for the lives of his comrades, since all but Skrit and Overload had no such protection. He stood, staring out the porthole, and looked at his ship, so close, but so very far away.

He wondered how this could have happened so fast, how all of a sudden his well-laid plans could have been thrown into disarray so quickly. It was a good plan, wasn't it? Get the information; get out, very simple idea. It was the complications that screwed everything up. Having to deal with, indeed even communicate with the Remans, was the chance that should not have been taken, and now here they were.

The crew was still, more or less, in one piece. Skrit's energies were stored in his emitters after the overload, so like Critch and Overload, he was in no real danger. The female android leaned back as she sat, holding on to Skrit's emitter. Her face showed no real emotion, as she had switched off her emotion chip. But when it had been on, she was afraid of what was going to happen. This wasn't something that she could conceivably run from like a plant-monster. She'd survive being shunted out to space, but beyond that who knew what other plans the Remans had? Most likely being vaporized in a phaser blast, or some other quick way of disposing of their captives. She shuddered involuntarily. Emotions or not, she didn't want to die.

Kelvok sat silently meditating next to her. He put himself at piece, allowing the situation to envelop him, and waiting for one of two things. The porthole to open, and for death to arrive, or for something inconceivable but not impossible to happen, and deliver them from their fates.

Critch glanced around, not noticing that Admiral T'Kill had sauntered up next to him. The half-Romulan didn't say anything, just watched the _Maximillian_ as it hung in space. Finally, he cleared his throat. "You know, she always looks her best when you can't get to her."

"The Max, sir?"

"Yep. A shame we can't keep this view longer, but I'm sure our 'hosts' have other plans for us."

"It's nice, Admiral…" There was silence for a minute, and Turock glanced at Critch.

"Something you want to say, Captain?"

"I thought you were about to say 'I told you so.'"

Turock chuckled. "Plenty of time for that later. I'm a little surprised your Marconian friends haven't arrived to bust you out yet."

Critch took the comment in stride. "I just figured your Romulan buddies would get here first. Wouldn't want to cause them the trouble." The two stared at each other. Critch finished. "We're not that different, Admiral."

"You think so, do you?"

"Look, I didn't have any choice on coming here, but just like you, I did have a choice on who to become, and here I am."

"Yes, and here we are."

"Two flights, parallel course"

"And I let you fly my ship."

"Thought you were saving that."

"I haven't even begun." Turock took a breath. "Here we are, trapped on a brig, certain death our only option. So what are you going to do about it?"

Critch thought a minute, mulling over the unexpected question. "In perfect circumstances, I'd bust out the porthole and just crawl along the side of the ship, and take them by surprise. Not an option here, would take you and Kelvok down. And I might need Kelvok to come back and fill in for me should I get tired of this job." Critch winked at the Vulcan, who did not make any signs of leaving his meditation.

"So then you'd let everyone die for the sake of keeping myself and Kelvok alive. Failed mission, Captain."

"I've told Kelvok and now I'm telling you. I don't believe in anyone dying, unless I go first. I think we've lost enough Admirals, don't you?" Turock did not react. "There's always a way, Admiral. There's some way to save me, you, and everyone else in here. And I'm going to find it. I just have to think on it." Critch turned back to the window, apparently losing himself in thought once again.

It was originally thought to be a much simpler plan than the way it ended up, but the added complexity did solve some problems, Nilrathi thought as he watched the form move out of the opened shuttle bay, through the protective force field. Databit had eagerly volunteered for the mission, not just to rescue the Captain and Admiral, but also out of worry for his best friend Overload, also held captive. With that out of the way, the mission was explained quickly.

"Ok, technically you're not listed as a member of this crew, as you know. Too many questions for the admirals to have to answer, and most likely you'd have to go through some kind of training program. Lucky for us, that means the Remans won't know about you, and that gives us a 'bit' of an advantage." The Horta chuckled at his own joke, as Databit sat on a corner of Nirathi's apparatus, which was attached painlessly and comfortably to the Horta's exterior. "When we leave, we'll drop you off, you get to the ship and get our people out!"

Databit nodded. "Will propulsion be an issue? I do not wish to be stranded if the Reman vessel leaves as well."

Nilrathi answered quickly. "Not a worry, you'll get a little boost." He was about to give further details when their path was blocked by a tall, silver figure.

Admiral Blobbin scowled menacingly, which was quite unlike his usual jovial self. "I can't believe you'd plan a secret mission without inviting me along! The nerve!"

Jaydin, who had been following behind Nilrathi and Databit, moved in front of them. "You're lucky we even had time to have Lachlan let you know, we need to get him out the door and get out of here!"

"You mean get 'us' out the door. I'm going." Blobbin's form extended a silver foot, and stamped it on the floor.

Jaydin sighed. "Admiral or not, I'm not going to have this mission jeopardized just because you think it'll be 'fun'!"

"Fun? There's no time for that! Turock's over there, and I don't think one little doll (Databit squeaked 'Action Figure!' to this, but was ignored) is going to be able to disable their whole crew. One lucky shot, and adios Admiral! Sayonara, Cap'n! No chance. He'll need backup. I don't need a spacesuit as long as I'm not out there all day, so I can get there as well as him. And don't forget, I'm not a member of this ship either. I fly my banner on the Julius the 2nd! They won't see me coming any more than they'll see him." He stared down Jaydin, who finally threw her hands up.

"Fine. Just get it done!"

Blobbin grinned, and then extended a silver hand. "All right. All aboard!" An old-style boat captain's hat formed out of his body, and Databit jumped onto it. Blobbin looked at his new passenger. "Hold your breath, little buddy."

Databit spoke indignantly. "As you know, androids have no need for aiiirrrumph." His voice muffled as Blobbin retracted the hand, which not only absorbed it back into his mercury body, but also absorbed Databit as well. All that Jaydin and Nilrathi could see of the android was a humanoid form floating around inside Blobbin. Nilrathi, of course, commented.

"That's disgusting."

Jaydin agreed, and Blobbin rolled his eyes. "Welcome to my world. Ok, kids, I'm going to get a rolling start. I can't be out there indefinitely, so make sure you're back as soon as…Hey in there, you have something to let them know to come get us, right?"

There was a muffled "Affirmative!"

"All righty, lets roll. Heh, literally…that's good." Blobbin reformed himself into a ball form, and then rolled the rest of the way to the bay.

Turock stood in silence again, watching out the window with Critch, and then he spoke again. "They're past their curfew."

"Maybe they got an extension."

Almost as if they could hear what they were saying, the_ Maximillian_'s engines suddenly fired, and the _Sovereign-Class_ ship jumped into warp quickly. In an instant, the ship was gone, the only trace left was the slight burst of blue in the sky. Critch's heart sunk, though he was careful to hide it from Turock. The Admiral, meanwhile, did not seem to be fazed by the _Maximillian_'s leaving. Instead, he spoke one more time. "Someone once told me that there's a difference in what type of Captain you are. There are bad, good, and great Captains. A bad Captain would simply sit and wait to die. A good Captain would find a way to escape, and return to fight another day. A great Captain, one that you would remember, would not only escape, but make sure every member of his team gets out, and then bring the fires of hell down upon the bastards that imprisoned him, and anyone else that stood in his way." Behind them, Critch could hear the doors open, and heavy footsteps approaching the brig. Turock continued. "Think about what kind of Captain you want to be. Seems like you're off to a good start." He finished, just as they heard chuckling. They turned to see Subcommander S'Rka, smiling as well as a Reman could smile.

"Your friends took the easy way out, and I'm afraid that your stay has been extended slightly."

Critch nodded. "I see. And which planet would you be dropping us off on…?"

S'Rka laughed again. "I see no need to give you shore leave at this time, Captain. You are such precious cargo." He rolled his r slightly. "A Half-breed Federation former captain, two androids, one a Captain himself, and there are those, Mr. T'Kill, that would be quite interested in you. A new order, so to speak. No, I do not believe it will be necessary to rid ourselves of you just yet. It is not yet…_time_…" He laughed heartily, leaving Critch to wonder just what the big joke was. Critch summoned up his bravado, for another verbal stand.

"May want to rethink that, buddy. I don't plan on staying here much longer."

"Hrmph. Your games are not needed, Captain. You cannot live through the force field that keeps you our prisoner. The only way out is if I open the hatch, and leave you to freeze in space. Perhaps dumping you in a sun somewhere…Ah, possibilities. Regardless, Captain, your fate is not up to you. I own your life now, and it would do you well to remember that." He laughed again, and turned to leave, not missing Critch's muttered 'We'll see.' on the way out.

"Friendly guy." Critch turned again to the window, resuming his stare at the stars along with Turock. The stars calmed the android, letting his mind focus on the many plans and ideas that were formulating in his mind. The calmness stilled him. It was just something about the stars, the distant sun, the small silver blob rapidly coming their way…

"What the hell?" Critch blinked instinctively as the blob struck the window, and showed a bright, loud smile, that extended even as the blob rolled up and out of sight. Critch turned to Turock, his face one of shock. "Admiral…?"

"I…I saw him too, Captain."


	7. Chapter 7

For more information and to purchase published works,

please visit maxwriters. pbwiki. com

The following story takes place after "Needs of the Many"

Star Trek: Maximillian

Strength In Darkness

**VI**

The sensation of the coldness of space rushing over a body is one of the most unique feelings in the universe, although most can never feel it without losing their life or at least placing it in extreme jeopardy. The combination of extreme temperature, to say nothing about the intense pressures present combined to form the most dangerous of places. For an Errsedorian, a being completely comprised of mercury, however, the danger was muted somewhat.

Having been jettisoned out of the _Maximillian _seconds before it warped away, Admiral Blobbin, along with Databit, moved rapidly towards the still Romulan Warbird, obviously having nowhere else important to be. At least Blobbin hoped they didn't. If they did, it'd be a very long wait until the _Maximillian_ came back, and he couldn't survive in the exterior of space forever. The word 'blobsicle' came into his mind, and he made a note to write that down later, as it would remind him of 'Bobsicle', and he was sure he'd known a few ensigns that had ended up that way. Made for good stories, anyway.

He was not able to speak, but he could tell from the small motions that Databit was making that the small android was unharmed, despite being completely submerged inside the mercury form. Blobbin assumed that he was just running tests, and decided he really didn't want to know what was going on, even if it was inside of him.

Being the form of a silver ball at this point, he was not able to change neither his direction nor his velocity much. Therefore, he knew there would be an impact. He tried to aim for a window, so as to sew the seeds of confusion inside the vessel. What would be more confusing then suddenly being struck by an undetectable silver asteroid? Not much, he bet himself. Finding his target, Blobbin formed a small fin, not unlike a shark's, and attempted to steer. He didn't move much, but he didn't have to, and he hit the porthole window dead-on. His form spread out a bit from the impact, but he quickly reformed, checked that Databit was okay, grinned at whoever was on the inside, and then rolled away, hoping for the desired effect.

Now it was Databit's turn. The small android, having quite enjoyed the ride, maneuvered towards Blobbin's body extent, and forced his way out. He felt exhilaration, and not a small amount of fear, as this was his first trip outside the ship into space. He knew very few would have this opportunity, so he took in as much as he could. But first and foremost, he did have a job to do. Wordlessly magnetizing his feet, an easy task for him, he began to trod across the ship's hull, Blobbin carefully pudding along behind him.

After about a minute, Databit found what he was looking for, a round wheel denoting an entrance hatch. He turned and pointed, and Blobbin nodded, the cold beginning to affect his motor skills slightly. He wasn't feeling quite as 'up' as he was a few minutes before, and he was starting to slow down. Recognizing the effects of space, Databit hurriedly moved to the wheel and grasped it as best he could with his small hands, and began to push it around. Blobbin helped, forming two grips, and after an agonizing few moments, the wheel began to move faster, and easier, and finally the hatch popped open. They entered slowly, closing the hatch behind them, and waited for the automatic pressurization cycle to complete. Once that was done, Databit pried the interior door open, and moved inside. Satisfied that the all was clear, Blobbin followed.

Now that everyone was restored to full combat readiness, the duty stations on the ship were re-staffed. Once again this vessel was at war, and the Reman Mkalo felt _good_. He knew the odds were highly stacked against them, but they had the tools, and the talent. They were bred for war, and he would be proud to fight and prove it. For now, however, he was merely a tool to be used as his commanders saw fit. So he marched, checking to make sure the ship was ready to go while checking for any sign of malfunction, and doing it proudly.

As he marched, he felt a slight tug on his pant leg. Stopping, he glanced down, and saw something he couldn't understand, a very small man with a pale face. He didn't catch the question, as it was in Federation and Mkalo had no translator of his own, so he just thought that the drink had done bad. He never saw the silver blob drop from the ceiling on his back, forcing him to the ground in a thud.

Databit grabbed the sides of the Reman's face and drove it into the ground twice, until he was satisfied that he was safely unconscious. Smiling up at Blobbin, who grinned back, they exchanged congratulations, and moved on, Databit saying his first words of the journey.

"I believe that the brig is nearby, one deck down."

"Good, my bunions are on fire!"

Blobbin sped up, and Databit had to jog to keep up, all the while asking how the Errsedorian could have bunions if he didn't have any feet.

The entire away team was now sitting, either on the bunks, or on the floor, listening to Critch and Turock's explanation, Overload shook her head. "Are you sure you just didn't want to see them so bad you just wished them into existence?"

Turock groaned, and Critch put his head in his hands. The Admiral shook his head. "Why haven't you learned yet that when an Admiral says something, it happened?" Critch glanced at him, but thought better of saying something. Turock stood with his back to the brig, facing everyone, as the Remans were ignoring everything that was going on anyway, if they could even understand him.

"Look, we're not imagining things here, and we're not giving false hope. We saw Blobbin just there. And I'd appreciate it if we finally got some sort of command respect on this ship for once. I am the commissioner of this vessel, am directly responsible for most of you having the positions that you have, and I…" Turock trailed off when he realized that no one was listening to him anymore. Instead they were simply staring behind him. Turning slowly, he saw about five Reman bodies strewn around the floor, and in the middle of all of them was Blobbin, grinning as broadly as ever, and Databit in a minute karate stance, breathing as though he had just got done doing heavy aerobics.

"Howdy!" Blobbin called as Databit recovered, and jumped up to the door controls, turning off the electric force field that kept them prisoner.

Critch was nearly knocked over by Overload, who rushed to her friend, picking him up and hugging him tightly. "I missed you so much! Thank you thank you thank you…" Critch shook an extended fin by Blobbin, while Turock shook his head.

"I told you! I told you we saw him! Why don't you people ever believe me?"

Blobbin shrugged. "Past experience I'd reckon."

Turock's face turned angry as Critch turned to him. "Thanks guys. Okay, we've got the element of surprise back, and we're not too far from their bridge. Do you have some kind of way to contact the Max?"

Databit nodded. "Affirmative. We are awaiting your command."

Critch smiled. "Give us one minute to sew some confusion out there. Then get them here, and we'll finish this." Databit nodded, as the Captain nodded at Kelvok. "A minute of payback should be enough." Then he said louder. "We ready?" There was a chorus of nods. "Then we go. Take 'em down quick, fight together. Move out!" And as they began to move, Critch smirked at Turock. "I'd like to be a great Captain, Admiral. But sometimes, I'll just settle for lucky." One by one they ran out into the hallways, all following their leader, their Captain. They came across two Remans in the hall, and neither one of them was prepared for battle. The team, silent as they could, took them down quickly, and left two unconscious bodies in their wake.

The bridge was quiet. Kimir stood quietly, allowing S'rka to impose his will on the ship. Despite the betrayal, something about these events simply did not sit right with the Reman commander. He wondered if S'rka was right, if he was truly losing his grip and if he was, what a horrible time to lose it. They were effectively cut off from all means of support. True, there was a plan, but now they would be forced to put it into play far earlier than they should have to, and he wasn't entirely sure that this ship could take the stress. Still, they would try. Remans would not quit, and the only thing that was going to get him out of commanding this vessel was his own death, and as far as he was concerned, it would take the death of this ship to make that happen.

His thoughts were broken as one of his officers' voices was growing louder. "Mkalo…respond, you dog!" Kimir grimaced at him, and the officer felt his gaze and lowered his head. "Apologies, commander…Mkalo does not respond to his call."

Kimir frowned, moving towards his station. "Why would he not respond?" It not making sense in his mind, Kimir tapped the console. "This is Commander Kimir. You will respond!"

Almost as if by cue, the away team chose that minute to enter the bridge. Knowing that this was the last time they could use surprise, they ran in yelling loudly, and quickly attacked the closest Reman to them. Kelvok chose the simple tactic to dispose of his chosen foe, as he punched him once, and then executed a nerve pinch that felled him. Overload decided that strength was her best asset, and simply picked up a Reman and threw him at another. "They sound like bowling pins!" She happily yelled, and moved to continue the fight. Turock moved towards Kimir, but was stopped by two Remans, growling. He steadied himself, and moved towards the right most one, blocking a punch from the other one; he kicked at the midsection of his target, sending him flailing backwards. He sent an elbow backwards then, knocking the other one back, and then advanced on the first adversary, who had recovered quickly. Blobbin chose the pratfall routine, forming a puddle and letting his chosen foil slip and fall. Then he enveloped the Reman within his mercury form and couldn't hold himself back from calling out "Have some cancer you Reman bastard!" Databit merely followed behind, making quite sure every Reman that hit the ground stayed there for some time.

Critch looked first for S'rka, and felt a twinge of sadness that his chosen one was nowhere near. He had quickly punched out a miscellaneous Reman, not bothering to hold his strength back, and noticed that this one had an old-style Romulan disruptor.

Turock grappled with his first Reman, pushing him back against the console, and reached up, quickly grabbing his head and bashing it three times against the console, knocking him out, falling into a bloody lump on the floor. He turned to a yell and saw the other Reman, recovered from the elbow, rushing towards him with a sharp knife. Before he could react, there was a sound of a disruptor firing, and a pained look came across the Reman's face, before he fell, revealing Critch and his new disruptor behind him. Turock furrowed his brow. "That was mine!"

"You snooze, you lose, Admiral." Critch grinned, even as the western doors opened and a new wave of Remans entered the room, ready for battle. The two looked at each other, and Turock winked. And then alongside Blobbin, Databit, Kelvok and Overload, they continued the fight.

Kimir cursed, and tried to plot an advantageous position. With their superior strength and numbers…no, this was a fight they would lose. There was only one way that this could be called a victory. The ship would have to self-destruct…He reached out to begin the procedure. He should just have enough time to complete it before he was noticed….

BOOM! The sound made the entire bridge shake, and the combatants, Kimir included, fell to the ground painfully. He looked up, seeing the viewscreen, and there, larger than life was the _Sovereign _class starship _Maximillian_, firing freely on the defenseless ship. He knew he had no time now, and he could see a light blinking on the communications station, waiting for someone to answer, to issue terms for surrender. But now there was no choice, and where a lowly Klingon would fight to the end of their life, Kimir did not want to die. He did not believe in honor that strongly. He began to crawl to the station, and was only stopped when a white-hot burst of pain moved through his back. Screaming in agony, he looked back to see S'rka, his hand holding the handle of what undoubtedly was a very sharp knife, grinning savagely. "S'rka" Was all Kimir could rasp out.

"Shhhh…." S'rka grinned. "This has been a long time coming…and now our victory is at hand…. You will live again, as my servant in the new Reman Empire!" He pulled the knife out, and began the downward slash towards Kimir again, this time to finish the job, but the blade never found its mark. Critch's foot had found S'rka's chest, sending him flying back into a row of consoles. Deeming him harmless, Critch kneeled over the bleeding Reman, and motioned Turock over. As Turock reached him, Critch glanced up, and noted that S'rka had disappeared, nowhere in sight. He stood up, and kept a look out, but it seemed the subcommander had left the battle entirely.

"Admiral…Admiral Turock…" Kimir struggled to get any words out, but if he were to die, than it would be with dignity.

Turock nodded. "I'm here...Commander, you must help us. Innocents will die, another war will begin…"

"Innocents…. Innocents always die…in war."

"We're not at war any more, Commander. We are allies!"

Kimir was silent, and Turock thought for sure that he had passed, but suddenly there was another rasping breath. "Console…code 5a…5b…1z….Katar….Katar contingency…." And with that, the body fell still.

Turock looked up. "Captain!"

"On it." Critch jumped to a console and began tapping in the code that Kimir had given. He had no idea what Katar, or a Katar contingency was, but he knew enough that whatever it was was not part of the code. Once he tapped the code in, he saw coordinates. Locations. Ship locations, to be exact. "Admiral, we've got them!" As he said this, a voice came over the intercom. It took a moment for the universal translator to process this, but when it did, it stopped the away team cold.

"Self destruct in thirty seconds…29…28…"

Critch looked up. "I didn't do it!"

"You're right!" S'rka stepped out of a darkened corridor, and started laughing, as the away team moved towards him. Critch raised an arm.

"No. He wants to die…we've got what we came for." He nodded towards Turock, and Databit tapped his own badge while climbing up, sitting on Critch's shoulder. Staring at S'rka, not hiding his disgust, Critch spoke to his ship. "Critch to _Maximillian_…get us the hell out of here." The last standing Reman was still laughing when the blue transporter beams faded out.


	8. Chapter 8

For more information and to purchase published works,

please visit maxwriters. pbwiki. com

The following story takes place after "Needs of the Many"

Star Trek: Maximillian

Strength In Darkness

**Chapter VII**

The Romulan warbird _Llaihr III _hung silently on the viewscreen of the _Maximillian_ bridge, motionless. There were no signs of any life from the vessel, and the only lights that could be seen emanating from the craft was sparks from the recent firefight. The vessel was tough, however, and survived the blows from its foe, and even as the countdown presumably continued to its destruction it still appeared dangerous, owing to the initial design of the vessel many years ago.

It was a moment before Critch returned to the bridge, followed closely by the rest of the away team. They had wasted no time after being beamed in getting back to work. Overload had met with chief engineer Squirrelly almost as soon as she appeared on the transporter pad, tossing him Skrit's emitter so that even the energy being could return as quickly as possible. Critch hoped that he wouldn't be needed, as this fight seemed to be over. Even if the self-destruct was cancelled right after they left, there was no chance for one mere warbird to match up against a top-of-the-line Federation ship, even if the captain was a bit green. He remembered his holodeck battle and smirked as he assessed the warbird. It was nice when something came together the way it was supposed too, for once.

"What happened to the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom!" Blobbin frowned at the _Llaihr_ _III_.

"Indeed. The self-destruct should have activated before we reached the bridge." Kelvok tapped a few panels in the back of the room.

"Should I hail them, Captain?" Xan asked, but Critch shook his head.

"No. I hate being robbed of an explosion, and I'm done with this guy. Lock phasers on their engines, and…"

He was interrupted by Overload, excitedly calling out to the room. "Their engines are powering up!"

Critch gritted his teeth, and finished his thought. "Fire!"

As the blue lines arced through space, the warbird suddenly jumped into warp speed, leaving the phasers without a target, disappearing in the blackness.

"Ah hell…Intercept course. Maximum warp! Let's get 'em!" Critch ordered.

"They're topping out at about Warp five, Captain. Their engines must have been slightly damaged in the battle." John Chubb offered, filling in at the main security station. The armory officer preferred to stay in the background during something like this, but since it appeared Skrit was out of commission, it was time for him to do his duty. Critch nodded.

"Time to bring weapons to bear?" Turock asked.

"A minute, there's a bit of interference from the su…sun." Chubb looked up. "They're heading right for the sun."

"Might not have to waste the torpedo." T'Purr offered, and Critch stood.

"A suicide run makes no sense, Captain. If he wanted to die, he wouldn't have cancelled the self-destruct." Nilrathi said.

"Or just let us destroy him…" Critch put his fist to his mouth, thinking as quickly as he could. Something obvious that he was missing.

But it was Kelvok and Turock, both having been chief officers when this circumstance had occurred before, who came to the realization at the same moment. They looked at each other. Turock spoke. "Slingshot."

"Time Travel." Kelvok completed the thought, and Critch realized just what the subcommander had been referring to all those times.

"He's going back…back to when Shinzon was alive. He's going to change history…_Frak._"

Databit did some quick calculations. "Captain, the Romulan ship will enter timewarp five seconds after we enter firing range."

"One shot at this then..." Critch knew he could take the shot, sit down in the chair and be a hero, or the goat. The chance of increasing his ego and his legend tempted him. But he looked at Commander Chubb, long a crewmember of the _Maximillian_, long having been in the background, never seeking nor wishing glory. He had earned his commander rank the hard way, through time in grade. Critch remembered about the different classes of Captain, and remembered that he was a leader of a team, albeit a very large one. "Commander Chubb!"

"Sir!"

"Can you hit it?"

"I can try, Captain."

"Do or do not, there is no try!" Blobbin yelled out, turning a shade of dark green." Chubb looked at Critch, fire in his eyes.

"I can do it, sir."

"Then do it." Critch sat back in his chair, not needing to scare his crew with speaking what would happen if something went wrong. There wasn't time anyway. Fifteen seconds separated the _Maximillian_ from firing range on the Romulan vessel, twenty seconds from timewarp and an entire new battle. He trusted his officer, though, so he was silent, only tapping on his armrest, to get a small tactical view of the ships, one red and one green. They were the green one, and they were gaining on the red, but not quickly enough for Critch's tastes.

The stars soared past the _Maximillian's_ unblemished hull, its torpedoes primed and ready for war, its crew on the edge of their seats, a silent countdown running through the heads of every member on the bridge that had heard Databit's exact estimation of time. Turock glanced at Critch, and their eyes met briefly. He didn't have to say anything at all.

John Chubb's mind was swimming. He knew that the Romulan ship would veer off at the last possible second, and that would happen right as the Max would get in range. He ran through scenarios both trained for and untrained, and at the end simply had to make a guess, based on historical documents and books that he hadn't thought about since the academy. As the countdown in his head hit zero, he pressed the button, launching the weapons, completing his task.

Two torpedoes rushed out of the front bay of the _Maximillian_ even faster than what the Mighty Max was moving. They moved through space on a pre-programmed course, with their important mission. They quickly caught up with the _Llaihr III_.

On it's own programmed course, it's subcommander still laughing hysterically, so sure of his victory, the warbird banked left suddenly, and yellow and orange streams began to trail off of its wings. No scientist or intelligence known by the Federation knew how this method of time travel worked. For every successful jump there were a thousand failures, and selective stoppages by future Federation members. To date, the only one that had managed to do it more than once was James Kirk, and that had been a hundred years prior. And now S'Rka, a Reman, was about to succeed where so many had failed. He could not help but laugh, even as he realized that the torpedoes were still following him.

The quantum torpedoes struck the engines directly, the shields having long since been dissipated by fire. They erupted with the added strain, and the explosion ripped the ship in twain. S'Rka finally stopped laughing when the fire seared his lungs, shortly before destroying the rest of him.

"YES!" Critch, Databit and Overload all erupted into a cheer when they saw the engines of the _Llaihr_ _III_ explode, followed shortly thereafter by the vessel. "Nicely done, Commander!" Critch grinned at Chubb, who offered a "thumbs up" signal, before turning back to the viewscreen. The commander's expression changed quickly as he took in what had happened.

"Uh, Captain?" Critch looked up, and stared.

The explosion had not faded due to lack of oxygen. Instead, the fire was growing and growing in an immense shockwave of white and orange energy, and it was expanding at an exponential rate.

"What the hell did we hit?" Critch wondered, and realized suddenly that there was no chance, the Maximillian was going to be struck by the explosion and there was nothing he could do. "BRACE YOURSELVES!" Critch covered his eyes as the jolt from the shockwave hit, and all was white…

It was suddenly quiet, too quiet for Critch's tastes. He figured he was still alive, as he was not in pain, and there were no angels singing or anything like that. From what he can tell, the light had disappeared, so he slowly lowered his arms from protecting his face.

He was shocked when he looked around. Everything and everyone was frozen in place, stopped in whatever position they were in when the shockwave had hit. He stepped over to Overload, her arms holding Databit to her protectively, and waved a hand in front of her face. Nothing. She and everyone else on the bridge, as well as presumably the entire ship, were completely stopped. Critch was used to strange things happening but this was beyond the pale. He walked around, looking at everyone, hoping that he wasn't the only one. Even Blobbin, who had sunk into a puddle, was trapped in that form. Critch thought about getting a bucket for him, to play a joke for when everyone woke up, if they woke up. He decided against it, muttering to himself, "Okay…" He sighed, and went to lean on his chair. He was surprised again when the chair sort of 'rippled', and he fell _through_ the chair, landing awkwardly on the floor.

"Ow!" He said more out of surprise than any pain, and looked up. The chair _looked_ solid enough, but unless his body was failing him, it was as if it wasn't even there. Propping himself up, he waved a hand through the chair. Satisfied that he wasn't losing his mind even more than he already had, he stood again. Curious, he waved a hand through Blobbin, and it was the same as the chair. There was just a slight wavering of the part of the body that Critch was moving through, and that was all, no feeling, nothing but air. Critch shook his head. Maybe he was dead.

With that thought, a voice entered his head. "No, you're not dead. Why does everyone always think that?" He didn't recognize the sort of smarmy voice, and he instinctively put his defenses up.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

"Oh yes, Captains give orders. Come outside and play, Critch." The android shook his head. What was he talking about? He looked at the viewscreen, and saw it waver a bit. Sighing, he figured that the only thing he could do was continue to play the game. At least the floor was solid enough. He strode forward, up to the front of the bridge, and then after taking an instinctive breath, walked right through the viewscreen.

He did not feel the cold of space, the heat of the sun, or anything else against his synthetic skin. Instead, there was just more nothing as he passed through the ship and finally out onto the hull of the saucer section. The light of the nearby sun did not affect his vision, and there was no change of temperature that he could tell. _The debriefing of this will be a lot of fun_. Critch thought, as he looked around, finally finding what he assumed was the source of the voice that had taken up residence in his head.

A man stood with his back to Critch, looking down below the hull. He appeared to be wearing a Starfleet uniform, which surprised Critch, but he was dealing with too much surprise already to let this one show. There wasn't anything special about the man. He was not extraordinarily large nor extraordinarily small, just average. Except of course for the fact that he was standing outside of a hull of a starship with no visible means of staying alive. A brief fearful thrill went through Critch's body, as he mulled the possibility that this could be a Marconian, one of Critch's race, somehow now with power far beyond comprehension. When the figure turned his head around, this thrill went away, and was replaced with an apprehensive anger. "You!" Critch said, accusingly.

"Moi?" The man placed a hand on his chest. "Come now, Captain, surely you don't recognize me?"

Critch shook his head, walking towards him. "Your picture has been tossed around the fleet more times than I can count. You've annoyed some powerful people…Q."

The omnipotent being laughed, "Guilty as charged, but I'm not here to talk about the past, or whatever. I'm here to clean up your mess."

"My mess?"

"Tsk Tsk." He waved a finger in front of Critch's face, and the android fought an urge to slap it away. "Exploding a ship full of Theylaron radiation at the first steps of time warp? Tends to leave a nasty hole in the continuum." Q waved a hand, and against his better judgment, Critch peered down into what he thought was just more space. If he thought he couldn't be surprised any more, he was wrong.

Instead of the blackness, Critch was confronted with a whirlpool of color. Spinning slowly through the void were pictures. Images. People moving, talking, ships of incredible design and unknown power soared through space. Things even Critch couldn't imagine were taking place before his eyes. "What…What…"

"Come now, Captain, you should know alternate universes when you see them!"

"But…But these are nothing like…"

"Phh, like yours is like this universe. Look at that one, a big planet killer moon and a space station, all getting blown up by a bunch of kids. Look over there, 20,000 humans left, just trying to find Earth." He chuckled. "There is another one. Look at that! You're all fluffy bears. The continuum is a wonderful place, Critch!" He rolled his 'r's' as he spoke. "And it's filled with…you."

"Me?"

"Well, you and your friends. This ship. A hundred thousand universes, and all of them with a _Maximillian, _mind you. What makes you so special, anyway? That the continuum has chosen you as a focal point? The mind boggles with possibilities."

Critch backed up, his mind swimming. "Wait, wait a minute…you froze them."

"Didn't want to cause a stir."

"Then why are you showing me?"

Q turned to him, seriously. "Honestly? Jean-Luc was busy. What do you think? You're from another universe, one where they want to invade other universes and kill them. Thought you could use a reminder at what's at stake should…you know."

"Should a war start."?

"More a 'When it starts', I would say. Your people are most tenacious."

"I wouldn't know. And you won't stop them?"

"And there's the other reason I can't help. Number one, wife and kid now, family man and number two, I can't mess with other universes. To each their own. Could be next week, could be next year, could be a hundred. I need someone to have some perspective. So when it's time, you'll remember."

"I…wait." Q started to walk away, but Critch did not follow. "So I'm going to forget everything?"

"For a time. Don't worry." He winked at him. "It'll come back to you. And I'll leave some eyes and ears around…you know, just to keep an eye on things."

"Whoa, I don't want one of your kind on my ship!"

"You won't even know they're there." With that, Q snapped his fingers, and the images of futures, pasts, and presents so different disappeared from view, and mind.

"Whoa!" The _Maximillian_ stopped its lurch, and suddenly all was calm. Critch had dropped to one knee, and was holding his head. Suddenly there was a fog over his mind that had appeared right when the shockwave hit. He looked up, and the others were looking back at him, all of them holding on to something to prevent falling themselves.

Critch stood, shaking off the fall and embarrassment. "What was that?"

"Scans show a small anomaly of unknown origin at point of impact. Trace amounts of Chronometric particles…and unidentifiable particles."

"Unidentifiable?" Critch sank in his chair. Last thing they needed right now was to investigate anomalies. Last thing he ever wanted to do was send out probes for a month.

Turock was the one to break Critch out of his stupor. "We have other priorities right now. The sleeper ships are still en route to their targets."

Critch smiled, happy to have an excuse. "Exactly. Lets lay down some sensor probes, and we'll get a science ship out here. Overload, I'm feeding you some coordinates. Set fastest course to the closest one and we'll go from there. Lets go." With the sound of her happy "Aye!" he turned to Turock. "Admiral, you should probably be the one to contact Starfleet on this one."

"Agreed." Turock nodded, and moved to the turbolift. Critch settled back in his chair, and after a moment, the _Maximillian_ jumped to warp once more.

_Captain's Log, Stardate 57124.6. The Maximillian is currently on a weeklong journey to our last sleeper ship. The others have been captured without incident, and there will be a tribunal to decide what to do with the Remans. But that's for far higher ranks than me, so I'm not concerning myself with it. After we get to the ship, we're going to hit a starbase for resupply, then," _he sighed_, "back to the anomaly to see what's up with these particles. Also Admiral T'Kill wanted to see me about some reports. I just want to take a nap._

Critch stood uncomfortably in full uniform before Admiral T'Kill, who read over a couple of padds in his hand. After a beat, he looked up at Critch. "Wanted to tell you that you did a good job, for a rookie."

Critch nodded.

"They don't get easier, Captain, so enjoy it while you can."

"Yes sir."

"You're waiting on me to yell at you for something, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well tough, as usual you can't get everything you want. I did want to ask you a question, though."

"Ok…"

"Why didn't you take the shot on the _Llaihr_ _III_? Not that Chubb did a bad job, but next to Skrit, you're the best marksman."

"Delegation."

"Captain, there's a time and a place…"

"Admiral, it's what you were telling me about being a good and great Captain. But it hit me, that a Captain is only as good as his crew. Now I could have taken the shot, and let everyone worship me for a while. Not bad. And then next time there's a crisis everyone just drops everything and looks in my direction. No thank you. My people are good people…strange as hell, but good. They need the room to do their jobs just as much as I need mine."

The point was not lost on Turock, who nodded. "What if Chubb would've missed?"

"We'd deal with that then. Go off on a grand adventure to save the _Enterprise_. Wouldn't be the first time. And c'mon, the guy's a commander; he knew what he was doing. Bottom line is, I think a good Captain gets the job done. A great Captain not only gets it done, but gets others to do it for him." He winked at Turock.

"That's a…unique perspective, Captain."

"Whatever works, Admiral."

Turock sat back in his chair, appraising the android. "Critch, at the beginning of this, I was going to file a complaint with the Commandant of Starfleet to have you removed from my ship. You're reckless, impulsive, and I still don't entirely trust you."

"You forgot incredibly good-looking." Critch was used to insults by now.

"You're still reckless, you're still impulsive. But I don't think you're going to do any more damage to this ship than we've already done."

Critch caught the omission. "I save your ass one time and you trust me? Will you buy me dinner if I do it again?"

"Don't push it." Turock stood, and offered a hand. Critch did the same, and they shook. "Don't make me regret changing my mind about you."

"I'll give it my best shot, Turock." Critch let go of his hand, smirked, and quickly left before Turock could say anything. Shaking his head in angry humor, He went to sit back in his chair, but noticed before he rested that his chair had turned silver, and was not exactly stable. He jumped to his feet as the chair quickly formed into a mercury blob.

Blobbin smiled. "Told you so."

"Shut up." Turock found his real chair, and tried to get back to work.

"Told you so."

"Shut up."

"Told you so." This line of arguing would continue for another two hours.

**Epilogue**

Captain Critch Starblade finally settled into his bed, his head resting against the pillow, and he curled up to finally get some rest. Despite his android body not requiring sleep, he relished it. Just as he began to drift off, he heard an insistent chime.

"Captain?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "Now what?"

**THE END…**


End file.
